%J3A! 


The  Quirt  and  The  Spur 

VANISHING  SHADOWS 

OF  THE  TEXAS 

FRONTIER 


BY 

EDGAR  RYE 


CHICAGO 

W.  B.  CONKEY  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1909  BY 
EDGAR  RYE 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Preface         7 

The  Tenderfoot   9 

Breaking  in  the  Tenderfoot  37 

The  Legend  of  the  Tonkawa  Indians 53 

The  "Wild  and  Woolly"  Citizens 69 

The  Vigilance  Committee  99 

Leadbetter's  Salt  Works  116 

The  Advent  of  "Texas"  135 

Amusing  Incidents   152 

On  the  Buffalo  Range  220 

The  Genuine  Cow  Boy 270 

Indian  Battles  on  the  Frontier 303 

Texas'    Wedding   Day ...353 


»  r- 


PREFACE 


All  that  has  passed  on  before  appear  to  me  as  vanish- 
ing shadows,  into  whose  hazy  depths  I  now  dimly  see  as 
in  a  dream ;  too  far  away  to  grasp  the  details,  yet  a  vision 
clear  enough  to  quicken  my  mind  and  allow  imagination 
to  supply  the  perspective,  and  to  even  incarnate  the 
actors,  and  bid  them  come  forth  from  that  mystic  realm 
of  long  ago,  and  once  more  give  a  realistic  performance 
for  the  mutual  pleasure  of  old  friends. 

Tis  true,  the  cycle  of  time  has  whirled  us  along  so 
fast  that  we  have  drifted  into  the  broad  field  of  commer- 
cialism, and  now  we  can  hardly  realize  that  there  is  a 
past  worth  remembering — a  time  before  the  flood  of  im- 
migration set  in  with  its  ever  increasing  population,  grad- 
ually covering  all  traces  of  the  Texas  frontier. 

In  these  modern  days  I  find  it  a  most  difficult  task  to 
secure  any  data,  much  less  to  tell  the  true  story;  never- 
theless, I  think  it  is  worth  while. 

And  there  is  much  that  is  interesting  in  the  telling, 
too,  notwithstanding  my  friend  the  critic  may  not  find, 
in  the  "warp  and  woof"  of  the  story,  the  weaving  of  a 
narrative  that  he  can  pronounce  "all  wool  and  a  yard 
wide."  I  will  be  content  if  the  few  remaining  frontier- 
men  and  their  descendants  can  unravel  a  thread  or  two 
that  will  prove  interesting  reading. 

In  the  fire  light  when  the  embers  glow, 
I  see  the  vanishing  shadows  come  and  go, 
Peopled  with  the  figures  I  once  knew ; 
Fancy    figures   now — farewell — adieu  ! 

EDGAR  RYE. 


CHAPTER   I 


THE  " TENDERFOOT " 

Tread  cautiously  as  you  advance  West; 
He  who  observes  most  will  fare  best. 

Far  out  into  that  vast  expanse  of  country  known  as 
Northwest  Texas,  in  the  early  days  of  the  frontier,  when 
unrestrained  nature  played  with  the  ambitions  and  pas- 
sions of  men — far  out  beyond  the  confines  of  civiliza- 
tion— beyond  the  reach  of  the  strong  arm  of  the  law — 
beyond  the  christianizing  influences  of  the  church — be- 
yond the  gentle  touch  of  a  woman's  hand — far  out  where 
daring  men  took  possession  of  the  hunting  grounds  of 
the  Indian  and  killed  herds  of  buffalo  to  make  a  small 
profit  in  pelts,  leaving  the  carcasses  to  putrify  and  bones 
to  bleach  on  the  prairies — far  out  where  cattlemen  dis- 
puted over  the  possession  of  mavericks,  and  the  brand- 
ing-iron was  the  only  evidence  of  ownership — far  out 
where  a  cool  head  backed  the  deadly  six-shooter,  and  the 
man  behind  the  gun,  with  a  steady  aim  and  a  quick  trig- 
ger, won  out  in  the  game  where  life  was  staked  upon  the 
issue — far  out  where  the  distant  landscape  melted  into 
the  blue  horizon,  and  a  beautiful  mirage  was  painted 
on  the  sky  line — far  out  where  the  weary,  thirsty  traveler 
camped  over  night  near  a  deep  water  hole,  while  near  by 
in  the  green  valley  a  herd  of  wild  horses  grazed  unre- 
strained by  man's  authority — far  out  where  the  coyote 
wolves  yelped  in  unison  as  they  chased  a  jack  rabbit 
in  a  circle  of  death,  then  fought  over  his  remains  in  a 

9 


10  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

bloody  feast — far  out  where  the  gray  lobo  wolf  and  the 
mountain  lion  stalked  their  prey,  killed  and  gorged  their 
fill  until  the  light  in  the  East  warned  them  to  seek 
cover  in  their  mountain  lairs — far  out  where  bands  of 
red  warriors  raided  the  lonely  ranch  houses,  killing,  burn- 
ing and  pillaging,  leaving  a  trail  of  blood  and  ashes 
behind  them  as  a  sad  warning  to  the  white  man  to  be- 
ware of  the  Indian's  revenge — far  out  into  this  wonder- 
ful country  of  great  possibilities,  where  the  sun  looked 
down  upon  a  scene  of  rare  beauty,  brilliant,  gorgeous 
and  fascinating,  appealing  to  sentiment,  awakening  love 
of  romance  and  sending  man's  thoughts  soaring  on  wings 
of  his  imagination — far  out  into  this  storehouse  of  na- 
ture, where  the  luxuriant  mesqufte  grass,  like  an  emerald 
carpet  of  velvet,  covered  the  hills  and  valleys,  furnishing 
unlimited  pasture  for  the  great  herds  of  cattle  turned 
loose  on  the  open  range — far  out  where  the  McKinzie 
trail  crossed  the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Brazos  river,  near 
the  confluence  of  Collins  creek,  Maj.  George  H.  Thomas 
established  an  army  post  on  the  top  of  a  low,  flat  hill, 
and  named  it  Fort  Griffin. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  March  in  the  year  1876,  during 
the  last  hour  of  a  crisp,  bright  day,  when  the  twilight 
shadows  were  settling  over  the  valley  of  the  Clear  Fork, 
a  covered  wagon,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  jaded  horses,  turned 
from  the  trail  and  halted  in  a  grove  of  pecan  trees  not 
far  from  the  crossing.  The  five  occupants  jumped  out 
and  made  preparations  for  camping  over  night. 

There  were  four  young  men  who  came  from  the  thickly 
populated  districts  of  Kentucky,  Tennessee  and  Virginia, 
and  the  fifth  was  the  guide,  who  was  also  the  owner 
and  driver  of  the  team,  chartered  by  these  young  men 
for  this  overland  trip. 

No  doubt  these  four  young  men,  prompted  by  their 


THE  TENDERFOOT  11 

love  of  adventure,  had  followed  Horace  Greeley's  advice, 
"Go  West,  young  man;  go  West." 

Each  could  have  been  labeled  "Tenderfoot,"  notwith- 
standing their  "Wild  West"  costumes. 

With  one  accord  they  began  to  gather  the  dry  drift- 
wood and  build  a  fire,  while  Dick,  the  guide,  tethered 
the  horses  and  fed  them,  before  he  began  preparations 
to  cook  the  evening  meal. 

When  supper  was  over  they  filled  their  pipes  and 
lounged  around  the  smoldering  fire.  And  for  a  long 
time  they  smoked  in  silence,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts. 

The  darkness  slowly  enveloped  them,  like  an  invisible 
curtain  drawn  by  an  unseen  hand.  The  tall  pecan  trees, 
with  their  festoons  of  grapevines,  shut  out  the  starlit  sky, 
and  the  undergrowth  made  the  darkness  more  intense. 
The  flickering  flames  of  the  fire,  with  their  bluish  tinge, 
cast  fantastic,  ghostlike  shadows  on  the  dark  background 
and  increased  the  loneliness  that  oppressed  the  campers. 

Those  mysterious  sounds  of  woodland  nature  that 
come  forth  at  night  played  a  medley  up  and  down  the 
river  valley,  accentuated  by  the  sharp  barking  of  a  coyote 
wolf  and  the  hooting  of  an  owl  from  the  upland. 

Civilization,  with  all  of  its  attendant  comforts,  was 
200  miles  east.  It  first  began  to  fade  from  their  view 
when  they  departed  from  the  town  of  Dallas,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Trinity  river,  the  western  terminal  of  the 
Texas  &  Pacific  railway,  where  the  wagon  traffic  of  the 
frontier  connected  with  the  iron  rails.  And  when  they 
began  the  journey  across  the  open  prairie  on  the  trail 
to  Fort  Worth,  the  scattered  houses  became  fewer  and 
the  distance  between  them  greater,  until  the  vast  expanse 
of  treeless  country  on  either  side  was  devoid  of  houses 
or  improvements.  The  indistinct  evidence  of  a  distant 


12  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

East  merged  into  the  free  and  easy  West  when  they 
arrived  in  the  village  of  Fort  Worth,  where  wagon  trains 
loaded  with  buffalo  hides  traded  their  cargo  for  camp 
supplies.  All  traces  of  the  East  disappeared  when  they 
bade  good-by  to  chance  acquaintances  at  the  little  hamlet 
of  Weatherford  and  rolled  out  on  the  buffalo  trail  toward 
the  setting  sun;  and  all  social  pleasures  and  commercial 
advantages  of  the  East  were  forgotten  during  the  ten 
days'  slow,  plodding  journey  westward,  hunting  and  fish- 
ing by  the  wayside. 

But  tonight  they  seemed  to  have  awakened  to  a  realiza- 
tion of  their  lonely  surroundings,  and  through  the  seduc- 
tive vapor  of  tobacco  smoke  came  visions  of  their  homes 
in  the  distant  States — friends  and  relatives,  beckoning 
them  to  return  to  the  business  activity  and  gay  social 
whirl  of  the  cities  and  towns ;  perhaps  the  pretty  faces  and 
shining  eyes  of  sweethearts  were  conspicuous  in  the  men- 
tal picture,  making  the  longing  more  intense,  and  the 
weight  of  depression  bore  down  upon  their  drooping  spir- 
its, suppressing  all  desire  to  enliven  the  evening  with 
song  and  story. 

And  the  full  significance  of  the  thirty  graves  they 
passed  on  their  journey  west,  near  the  trail  in  Los  Val- 
ley, twelve  miles  northwest  of  Fort  Richardson  and  the 
town  of  Jacksboro,  where  a  caravan  of  freight  wagons 
was  attacked  by  a  bloodthirsty  band  of  Comanches,  led 
by  Santanc  and  Big  Tree,  came  up  in  retrospect. 

The  vivid  recital  of  Dick,  the  guide,  as  he  told  the 
hair-raising  story  of  the  massacre  of  the  teamsters  after 
a  fierce  battle,  the  burning  of  the  wagons  with  the 
wounded  tied  to  the  wheels,  and  the  finding  of  their 
charred  remains  after  the  holocaust,  was  listened  to  with 
all  the  thrill  of  viewing  the  ground  made  historic  by  the 
tragic  event.  It  had  been  exhilarating  excitement  at 


THE   TENDERFOOT  13 

the  time  to  hear  Dick  tell  of  the  narrow  escape  of  Gen. 
Tecumseh  Sherman,  who  was  then  making  a  tour  of  in- 
spection of  the  frontier  army  posts  of  Texas,  and  was 
within  a  few  miles  of  the  massacre  with  a  small  escort  on 
his  way  to  Fort  Richardson,  and  arrived  at  General  Mc- 
Kinzie's  headquarters  when  a  messenger  was  telling  the 
sad  story.  It  was  electrifying  to  remember  that  General 
Sherman  became  so  excited  that  he  ordered  General 
McKinzie  to  take  command  of  the  7th  Cavalry  and  fol- 
low them — "follow  them  to  the  reservation  and  capture 
them,  General — follow  them  to  hell  and  capture  or  kill 
them — don't  return  without  Santanc  and  Big  Tree." 

And  tonight  these  four  young  men  remembered  that 
they,  too,  were  within  that  danger  zone  where  the  red 
warriors  resented  the  white  man's  invasion,  and  that  they 
never  lost  an  opportunity  to  kill,  burn  and  destroy  their 
enemies.  And  even  now  there  was  a  possibility  that 
at  any  moment  they  might  be  called  on  to  defend  them- 
selves. This  was  calculated  to  knock  all  of  the  romance 
out  of  their  previous  conception  of  the  West,  and  leave 
but  little  of  the  buoyant  spirit  that  prompted  them  to 
make  the  journey.  And,  to  judge  from  appearances, 
this  was  to  be  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  all  of  their 
venture  into  the  realm  where  heroes  are  made:  How 
different  to  be  face  to  face  with  the  real  West,  where 
real  live  Indians  lived! 

Even  Dick,  the  guide,  seemed  to  fall  under  the  spell, 
and  instead  of  cheerfully  whistling  as  usual  while  attend- 
ing to  the  routine  of  camp  life,  used  cuss-words  while 
repairing  a  break  in  the  harness,  and  made  no  effort  to 
conceal  his  irritability  over  trivial  incidents. 

The  uncertainty  of  their  future  movements,  no  doubt, 
had  much  to  do  with  the  depression  that  took  possession 
of  the  camp,  and  cast  a  gloomy  shadow  over  their 
spirits. 


14        THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

But  Kentuck,  so  nicknamed  by  his  companions,  was  an 
optimist  of  the  most  pronounced  type,  and  never  gave 
himself  up  to  gloomy  thoughts  or  predicting  disaster, 
and  on  this  occasion  resorted  to  raillery  to  arouse  his 
companions  from  their  gloomy  lethargy. 

"Homesick,  boys?"  he  inquired,  as  he  looked  around 
the  circle  of  dejected  countenances. 

"Well,  I'm  not  particularly  stuck  on  the  situation," 
replied  Allen  Forts,  the  youngest  member  of  the  group. 

"I  confess  that  I  just  begin  to  realize  that  it  was  not 
a  wise  venture  to  come  out  into  this  wild  country  with- 
out any  preparation  or  forethought,"  said  Sam  Gazel. 

"Oh,  we  are  a  set  of  visionary  galoots,  carried  away 
on  the  wings  of  the  'Wild  West'  novel  stories,  and  now 
we  have  butted  up  against  the  facts  after  a  flight  of 
a  few  hundred  miles  in  search  of  "ideals.  I  guess  it  is 
about  time  to  hold  a  consultation,"  remarked  Bill  James. 

"Cheer  up !"  exclaimed  Kentuck.  "You  remind  me  of 
a  bunch  of  kids,  afraid  of  being  spanked.  We  will  hold 
a  council  in  the  morning  and  determine  on  a  plan  of 
action.  For  myself,  I  am  well  pleased  with  the  pros- 
pects, and  have  made  up  my  mind  to  remain  and  grow  up 
with  the  country.  I  did  not  expect  to  occupy  a  seat 
in  the  grand  stand  and  listen  to  the  band  play,  while  the 
cowboys  and  Indians  did  their  stunts  in  the  arena.  Per- 
haps you  kids  want  the  peanuts  and  the  lemonade  passed 
around  ?" 

"Oh,  dry  up,  Kentuck,"  said  Sam  Gazel ;  "it  is  bad 
enough  to  have  the  blues,  without  listening  to  your  'josh- 
ing.' It  sounds  like  a  lecture  from  my  father  when  I 
used  to  stump  my  toe  and  was  nursing  my  foot  with 
both  hands.  You  darned  ninnies  make  me  sick,  com- 
miserating over  imaginary  ills.  You  remind  me  very 
much  of  an  old  maid  in  the  mountains  of  Kentucky,  sit- 


THE  TENDERFOOT  15 

ting  in  the  door  of  her  cabin  one  bright  day  in  the 
springtime,  when  the  robin  redbreast  was  picking  up 
worms  in  the  furrow  behind  the  plowman,  and  the  mar- 
tins circling  around  the  'cat  and  clay'  chimney,  looking 
for  an  opening  to  build  their  nests ;  this  poor,  dejected 
lady  was  weeping  aloud  in  her  distress.  Fortunately, 
a  good  neighborly  matron  came  in  time  to  offer  condo- 
lence. 'What,  in  the  world  is  the  matter,  Cynthia?' 

"  'Oh,  Mrs.  Kiser,'  said  the  distressed  old  maid,  wring- 
ing her  hands  and  rocking  to  and  fro;  'suppose  I  was 
married  and  had  a  sweet  little  baby  boy — and — and — 
he  was  to  take  sick  and  die — Oh,  wouldn't  it  be  awful? 
Boo — boohoo — it  nearly  kills  me  to  think  about  it/  " 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned,"  said  Dick,  the  guide.  "The 
old  gal  was  powerfully  worked  up,  warn't  she  ?" 

"That's  right,  Kentuck ;  rub  it  in.  But  you  are  not  so 
lighthearted,  I  don't  think,  as  you  pretend  to  be,"  re- 
torted Sam  Gazel. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am,"  said  Kentuck;  "I  never  felt  better 
and  had  less  pricks  of  conscience  than  at  the  present  mo- 
ment. 'Tis  true  we  are  out  in  the  'Wild  West/  with  no 
well  defined  ideas  or  definite  object  in  view.  And,  per- 
haps, it  is  time  for  sober  thought  and  calm  reflection,  in- 
stead of  our  usual  after  supper  jollity,  before  rolling  up 
in  our  blankets  for  the  night.  But  I  can  see  no  cause 
for  depression.  From  the  view  we  obtained  of  the  fort 
from  the  top  of  the  divide,  a  few  miles  back  on  the 
trail,  I  anticipate  we  will  have  an  interesting  time  when 
we  cross  the  river  in  the  morning.  So  let's  have  a  com- 
fortable rest  while  we  smoke." 

No  one  answered  Kentuck's  last  remarks,  and  the 
campers  relapsed  once  more  into  silence. 

In  the  meantime,  while  thus  preoccupied  with  their 
thoughts  and  oblivious  to  their  surroundings,  a  band  of 


16  THE  QUIRT   AND  THE  SPUR 

Tonkawa  Indian  scouts  arrived  at  the  village  of  the 
tribe,  situated  behind  a  rocky  bluff  concealed  from  the 
camp  at  the  crossing  where  the  young  men  were  enjoy- 
ing their  quiet  smoke.  The  distance  between  the  camp 
and  the  Indian  village  was  about  one-half  mile  around  a 
bend,  and  their  presence  was  not  known  to  Kentuck 
and  his  companions. 

Consequently,  when  the  friendly  Tonks  began  to  beat 
their  "tom-toms"  preparatory  to  celebrating  their  victory 
over  the  Comanches,  it  created  almost  a  panic  in  the 
camp  where  these  young  men  were  lounging  around  the 
fire. 

They  were  not  prepared  for  the  "Yip!  Yip!  Hiyi! 
Hiyi !  Kyaw !  Kyeeaw !  Yip !  Yip !"  of  the  warwhoop,  as 
it  floated  out  on  the  night  air  with  blood-curdling  dis- 
tinctness. 

"What  in  the  devil  is  that?"  exclaimed  Allen  Forts, 
as  he  jumped  to  his  feet. 

The  others  turned  their  heads  and  looked  at  Dick  in 
mute  surprise. 

"Don't  you  all  get  frisky  now,  and  try  to  stampede, 
'cause  that's  nothing  but  them  measly  old  Tonks  having 
a  powwow  up  the  creek,"  remarked  Dick.  "Been  out 
with  a  government  exhibition  after  a  bunch  of  Coman- 
ches, I  guess.  'Twas  the  same  thing  the  last  time  I 
came  out  here.  They  always  go  crazy  when  they  return 
from  a  raid,  especially  if  they  happen  to  pot  one  of  their 
old  enemies ;  they  are  sure  to  go  bucking  around  in  their 
outlandish  dance  like  a  fellow  with  a  bad  case  of  the 
'jim-jams.'  Would  you  like  to  see  'em  play  the  game, 
gents  ?" 

"I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  a  great  deal,"  said  Kentuck. 

"You  bet,  I  sure  want  to  see  some  real  Indians,  espe- 
cially a  war-dance,"  said  Sam  Gazel. 


THE  TENDERFOOT  17 

"Well,  if  it  is  a  free  show  you  can  count  me  in,  too," 
remarked  Bill  James. 

"Well,  I'm  'Johnny  on  the  spot/  too,"  said  Allen  Forts. 

"All  right,  gents ;  wait  until  I  throw  the  'grub'  into  the 
wagon,  to  keep  the  coyotes  from  carrying  it  off ;  then  we 
will  climb  the  rocky  bluff,  where  we  can  look  down  on 
the  racket." 

It  required  only  a  few  minutes  to  secure  the  provi- 
sions, and,  taking  the  precaution  to  carry  their  arms,  they 
ascended  the  bluff  that  hid  the  Tonkawa  village  from 
their  view. 

From  this  vantage  ground  they  were  given  the  rare 
opportunity  of  witnessing  a  genuine  Indian  war  dance 
without  embarassing  the  situation  with  their  presence. 

It  was  a  wild,  picturesque  scene,  and  required  no  em- 
bellishing to  make  it  intensely  interesting  to  the  specta- 
tors. 

In  the  center  of  a  grove  of  cottonwood,  pecan  and 
elm  trees,  an  Indian  village  of  about  twenty-five  tepees 
surrounded  an  open  plot  of  ground,  perhaps  one-half 
acre,  in  the  shape  of  an  arena. 

Occupying  the  center  of  this  space  was  a  large  bonfire 
burning  brightly,  revealing  all  the  surrounding  objects 
within  the  radius  of  the  circle  of  firelight,  making  an 
excellent  background  of  scenic  display,  whose  natural 
beauty  was  grand,  beyond  the  conception  of  the  most 
eminent  artist  that  ever  attempted  to  place  on  canvas 
the  delicate  lights  and  shades  that  hide  within  the  depths 
of  the  leafy  bowers,  where  the  swinging  branches  cast 
moving  shadows  upon  the  ground,  in  harmony  with  the 
forms  of  the  youths  and  maidens  of  the  tribe,  who  lin- 
gered in  the  subdued  light  near  the  tepees,  and  watched 
the  exciting  scenes  in  which  they  were  forbidden  to  par- 
ticipate. Looking  down  from  the  heights  above  the  view 


18  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

was  so  fascinating,  that  the  young  men  were  spellbound, 
and  not  even  Kentuck  could  find  voice  to  break  the  spell. 
From  out  the  shadow  young  squaws  came  laden  with 
fuel  to  the  fire,  and  from  time  to  time  replenished  it 
with  limbs  of  dead  mesquite  trees  and  rosin  weeds,  caus- 
ing the  flames  to  flash  up  with  a  sudden  glare,  producing 
a  weird  appearance,  like  a  scene  in  the  play  of  "Faust." 

The  red  warriors,  decked  out  in  all  the  gaudy  orna- 
ments that  their  savage  ingenuity  could  devise,  and  re- 
splendent with  feather-crested  war  bonnets,  beaded  and 
fringed  hunting  shirts  and  leggins,  brandishing  their 
tomahawks  as  they  maneuvered  in  a  circle  with  the  fire  as 
a  pivot,  were  the  star  actors  in  the  realistic  drama  dem- 
onstrating the  force  of  Indian  enthusiasm. 

The  squaws  of  mature  age  formed  an  outer  circle  at 
a  safe  distance  from  the  active  performance  of  the  war- 
riors, where  they  kept  up  a  crooning  song,  clapping  their 
hands  and  marking  time  with  their  feet  to  the  monot- 
onous thumping  of  the  "tom-toms"  by  the  old  warriors  in 
the  background. 

Chief  Johnson's  imposing  figure  led  the  young  braves 
through  the  figures  of  the  dance. 

Fast  and  furious  grew  the  exciting  sport  as  the  danc- 
ing figures  hopped  and  skipped  around  the  blaz-ing  fire, 
pausing  a  moment  at  the  end  of  certain  maneuvers,  to 
shout,  "Yip!  Yip!  Hiyi!  Hyki!  Kyaw!  Kyeeaw!  Yip! 
Yip!" 

Fascinated  and  spellbound,  these  young  men  looked 
down  from  their  elevated  position  on  a  scene  equal  to 
a  passion  play,  and  presenting  all  the  striking  features  of 
an  Indian  scouting  party,  trailing,  fighting  and  killing 
their  enemies. 

Could  this  real  Indian  war  dance  have  been  staged, 
with  all  the  true  features  of  these  earnest  warriors, 


THE  TENDERFOOT  19 

giving  vent  to  their  fiery  hatred  of  their  enemies  (not 
the  Wild  West  show  imitations),  it  would  make  an  audi- 
ence sit  up  and  take  notice. 

Chief  Johnson  would  stoop  down  and  point  to  the 
ground  to  indicate  the  discovery  of  moccasin  tracks ; 
then  he  would  run  forward  on  the  trail,  followed  by  the 
young  warriors,  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  Now  and 
then  they  would  stop  for  a  moment  and  shade  their  eyes 
with  their  hands  as  they  looked  into  the  distance  for 
signs  of  their  foes ;  then  off  again  on  the  trail  with  untir- 
ing energy;  pausing  a  moment,  they  gather  around  the 
chief  for  consultation,  and  point  to  some  distant  object 
as  though  their  foe  was  now  in  sight ;  again  on  the  trail, 
exhibiting  caution  and  strategy  as  they  advance  to  engage 
in  battle;  the  warwhoop  is  given  as  they  dash  forward 
to  charge  the  ranks  of  the  enemy ;  fighting  at  close  range 
with  the  long-bow ;  charging  forward  with  spear  and 
tomahawk ;  hand  to  hand  with  hunting-knife ;  a  stroke 
in  the  heart  and  stooping  to  tear  off  the  fallen  foe's 
scalp — acted  with  all  the  fiery  passion  of  their  savage 
natures. 

There,  under  the  canopy  of  the  star-sprinkled  sky,  in  a 
natural  theater  with  tree-lined  walls,  was  presented  a 
drama,  crudely  but  faithfully  portrayed  in  the  flickering 
light  of  a  camp  fire. 

It  was  midnight  before  the  spectators  on  the  bluff 
were  content  to  retire  to  their  camp ;  and  even  then  they 
were  not  tired  of  watching  the  Indians.  But  remem- 
bering that  they  were  nearing  their  jorney's  end,  and 
that  the  morrow  promised  greater  possibilities,  they 
agreed  to  retire. 

"Do  you  know  that  what  I  have  witnessed  tonight, 
boys,  has  repaid  me  for  the  time  and  expense  of  my 
journey  west?  It  was  a  revelation  that  knocked  all  my 


20  THE  QUIRT   AND  THE  SPUR 

previous  conceptions  of  Indians  in  the  head.  I  have 
always  believed  them  to  be  a  cold,  impassive  people,  in- 
capable of  expressing  emotion,  or  exhibiting  human  char- 
acteristics. But  now  I  am  free  to  admit  that  the  red 
man  possesses  like  passions  with  his  white  brother,"  said 
Kentuck. 

"I  would  not  have  missed  the  show  for  a  great  deal. 
Whether  I  decide  to  remain  in  the  West  or  return  to 
my  home,  I  will  always  remember  the  war  dance  on  the 
banks  of  the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Brazos  river  in  Texas," 
said  Allen  Forts. 

"Well,  I'll  admit  there  is  no  more  comparison  between 
the  real  war  dance  and  the  novel  writer's  description  than 
there  is  between  a  papoose  and  a  negro  baby,"  remarked 
Bill  James. 

"It  was  an  excellent  entertainment,  all  right,  and  I 
would  have  paid  an  admission  fee  rather  than  miss  it," 
said  Sam  Gazel. 

"You  will  soon  git  used  to  that  kind  of  a  racket  if  you 
stay  out  here,"  remarked  Dick. 

"The  more  I  see  of  this  country,  the  more  determined 
I  am  to  remain.  There  is  a  great  future  full  of  bright 
promises  in  store  for  the  people  who  build  homes  and 
till  the  rich  soil  of  these  broad  prairies,"  said  Kentuck. 

"Maybe,"  said  Dick,  "but  I  am  gitting  too  sleepy  to 
talk  about  the  future.  Let's  all  roll  in  and  take  a 
snooze." 

Securing  Dick's  promise  to  awaken  them  at  "peep  o' 
day,"  they  were  soon  enjoying  that  refreshing  slumber 
that  comes  to  those  who  spread  their  blankets  in  the  open 
air,  where  the  life-giving  ozone  comes  with  each  gentle 
respiration. 

And,  respected  reader,  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  only 
one  of  these  four  young  men  remained  on  the  frontier 


THE  TENDERFOOT  21 

of  Texas  to  become  identified  with  passing  events,  it  is 
unnecessary  to  give  a  description  of  the  three  who  re- 
turned with  Dick  the  second  day  after  their  arrival.  But 
for  a  better  understanding  of  what  follows  in  the  rapid 
course  of  events  during  the  development  of  Northwest 
Texas,  it  becomes  necessary  to  introduce  the  one  who 
remained,  to  live  and  work  out  his  destiny  among  the 
hardy  settlers,  who  successfully  met  and  bravely  over- 
came the  difficulties  that  attend  the  settlement  of  a  new 
country. 

Proud  of  his  nickname,  "Kentuck,"  and  possessing  all 
the  activity  and  keen  interest  of  a  healthy  young  man, 
he  displayed  a  love  for  adventure  so  characteristic  of 
one  born  in  the  northeastern  part  of  the  Old  Common- 
wealth, where  the  Ohio  river  winds  its  way1  through  beau- 
tiful mountain  scenery,  and  the  inhabitants  are  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Scotch-Irish  immigrants  who  came  from 
the  mountain  homes  across  the  sea  to  build  new  homes 
in  the  mountains  of  Kentucky,  where  the  great  forests, 
overhanging  cliffs  and  bubbling  springs  invited  them  to 
congenial  surroundings.  Here  among  his  native  hills, 
Kentuck  grew  to  young  manhood,  under  the  guiding 
care  of  a  noble  father  and  a  pious  mother,  who  were  too 
practical  to  understand  the  artistic  and  poetic  nature  of 
their  son  when  he  wasted  much  valuable  time  with  pen 
and  pencil  instead  of  following  some  useful  trade  or 
occupation.  Consequently  that  longing  desire,  ever  pres- 
ent, never  satisfied,  to  exercise  freedom  of  choice,  led 
Kentuck  to  escape  parental  restraint  and  journey  to 
Texas.  Of  medium  height  and  slender  build,  his  buoyant 
spirits  and  optimisitic  views,  and  the  possession  of  com- 
mon sense  to  practice  tact  and  adaptability  in  harmony 
with  his  environments,  proved  a  valuable  passport  to  the 
friendship  of  the  frontier  people. 


22  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

As  per  agreement,  Dick  aroused  the  four  young  men 
from  their  slumbers  when  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  began 
to  tinge  the  eastern  sky. 

After  a  brief  consultation  they  decided  to  climb  the 
hill  near  the  fort  before  sunrise,  that  they  might  catch  all 
the  effects  of  the  lights  and  shades  of  the  new-born  day, 
as  it  emerged  from  the  mysterious  depths  of  the  night. 

Leaving  Dick  to  care  for  the  camp  and  cook  break- 
fast, Kentuck  and  his  companions  crossed  the  Clear  Fork 
on  a  causeway  of  rocks  that  afforded  facilities  for  pedes- 
trians when  the  water  was  low,  and  walked  up  Griffin 
avenue  to  Government  Hill,  before  any  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Flat  were  awake.  The  jumble  of  houses  on  either 
side  of  the  street  could  not  be  dignified  by  the  name  of 
town,  but  should  more  properly  be  designated  as  a  tem- 
porary group  of  houses  to  meet  the  emergency  of  a  de- 
mand for  shelter  for  the  men  who  made  the  Flat  a  resort. 
These  people  cared  nothing  for  their  personal  appear- 
ance, much  less  for  the  art  of  town  building. 

Instead  of  following  the  approach  to  the  fort,  Ken- 
tuck  and  his  companions  ascended  the  hill  to  a  point  of 
observation  to  the  left  of  the  military  reservation,  where 
an  unobstructed  view  was  presented  of  the  fort,  the  Flat 
and  the  valley  of  the  Clear  Fork. 

And  now,  reader,  if  you  have  any  curiosity  that  will 
lead  you  to  investigate,  take  a  map  of  Texas  and  trace  a 
due  west  line  from  Dallas  county  until  you  find  the  county 
of  Shackelford,  then  the  last  organized  county  in  the  tier, 
and  to  which  all  unorganized  counties  were  attached  for 
judicial  purposes.  Near  the  center  of  Shackelford  is 
located  the  county  seat  town  of  Albany.  Due  north  from 
Albany  is  located  Fort  Griffin,  on  the  banks  of  the  Clear 
Fork,  the  central  supply  point  of  the  great  cattle  range 
that  furnished  the  ranchmen  300  miles  distant.  Here, 


THE  TENDERFOOT  23 

too,  the  "chuck"  wagons  on  the  overland  trail  from 
Southern  Texas  replenished  their  stores,  and  the  buffalo 
hunters  loaded  their  wagons  with  ammunition  and  pro- 
visions. 

The  importance  of  the  position  was  recognized  by  the 
United  States  government  and  the  State  of  Texas,  both 
quartering  troops  here. 

Consequently  it  can  easily  be  recognized  what  an  im- 
portant part  Fort  Griffin  played  in  the  history  of  Texas 
during  the  '705  and  '8os,  and  that  the  reminiscences  of 
those  days  have  a  value  far  beyond  their  recital  in  this 
volume. 

Fort  Griffin,  during  this  period  of  its  existence,  quar- 
tered seven  companies  of  United  States  troops  com- 
manded by  General  Buell. 

The  town  known  as  the  Flat  surrounded  the  base  of 
Government  Hill  and  was  the  central  trading  point  for 
the  cattlemen  ^oo  miles  west  It  was  also  headquarters 
for  an  army  of  buffalo  hunters  and  the  intermediate 
supply  point  on  the  overland  cattle  trail  between  South- 
ern Texas  and  the  Kansas  feeding  pens,  before  offering 
them  for  sale  in  the  St.  Louis  and  Chicago  markets. 

Situated  sixty  miles  from  any  other  settlement,  the 
fort  formed  a  nucleus  around  which  flourished  the  most 
notorious  town  in  the  "Wild  West." 

To  these  four  young  men,  who  for  the  first  time  had 
ventured  beyond  the  confines  of  civilization,  it  was  like 
entering  a  new  world. 

From  their  position  on  the  top  of  the  hill  they  secured 
an  excellent  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  and  also 
looked  down  upon  the  irregular  mass  of  business  houses, 
restaurants,  saloons,  dance  halls,  wagon  yards,  and  all 
other  kinds  of  habitations  growing  out  of  the  necessities 
of  the  situation.  And  this  place  had  the  reputation  of 
being  the  fastest  town  on  the  frontier. 


24  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Outside  of  the  town  in  every  direction  the  country  was 
uninhabited.  Off  to  the  south  and  southeast  bunches 
of  cattle  were  grazing  on  last  year's  crop  of  grass  that 
retained  some  of  its  nutritious  virtues,  and  was  the  only 
provender  that  sustained  animal  life  during  the  winter 
months  on  the  range. 

Near  a  water  hole  in  the  valley  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
a  trail  wagon  outfit  loaded  with  buffalo  hides  was  camped 
— three  wagons  coupled  together  and  drawn  by  fifteen 
pair  of  oxen  when  in  motion,  but  now  leisurely  grazing 
near  camp  while  the  teamster  and  his  help  were  cooking 
their  breakfast. 

When  they  had  come  in  sight  of  Fort  Griffin  the  even- 
ing before,  Dick  had  informed  them  that  this  was  the  last 
white  man's  habitation  going  west  toward  the  New  Mex- 
ico line,  but  they  had  not  realized  the  significance  of  the 
announcement  until  now,  as  they  stood  there  in  the  early 
morning  light,  and  saw  the  gray  curtain  of  dawn  pushed 
aside  by  the  first  rays  of  the  sun. 

They  were  now  in  the  center  of  that  great  open  range 
that  belonged  to  the  cattle  barons  by  right  of  possession. 
All  of  this  vast  country  was  the  spoils  of  conquest  from 
the  Indians  and  Mexicans.  The  ranchman  could  ride 
over  his  free  range,  whose  imaginary  boundaries  were 
always  respected  by  his  neighbors,  who  demanded  a  like 
privilege  for  themselves.  Primitive  and  rough,  but  an 
ideal  life  they  lived  in  the  pure  open  air  on  the  prairie, 
camping  wherever  night  overtook  them. 

No  wonder  that  they  were  happy  and  grew  rich  under 
the  healthy  conditions  surrounding  "them.  With  a  brac- 
ing atmosphere  and  feasting  on  a  choice  buffalo  hump 
or  the  roasted  ribs  of  a  fat  maverick,  the  physical  man 
developed  all  his  animal  strength,  notwithstanding  he 
smoked  quantities  of  strong  tobacco.  And,  then  to  roll 


FORT  GRIFFIN  IN  1876. 


THE  TENDERFOOT  27 

up  in  their  blankets  with  their  heads  upon  their  saddles 
for  a  pillow,  dream  strange  dreams  of  another  life,  where 
smiling  faces  with  rosy  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes  beck- 
oned them  on  to  domestic  bliss.  Yes,  it  was  an  ideal  life, 
and  he  who  would  molest  or  make  them  afraid  must  needs 
have  more  men  and  better  guns. 

And  now  the  fort  awoke  from  its  all  night  slumber, 
and  Old  Glory  unfolded  its  bright  colors  as  the  sunrise 
gun  boomed  forth  on  the  crisp  air.  Soldiers  rushed  from 
their  quarters  to  the  parade  ground  as  the  bugler  sounded 
the  call. 

By  this  time  the  Flat  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  showed 
signs  of  a  busy  day,  and  a  confusion  of  sounds  left  no 
doubt  that  even  in  this  oasis  of  the  Texas  frontier  com- 
mercialism was  the  dominant  power  that  ruled. 

Yes,  their  walk  from  camp  to  Government  Hill  had 
been  worth  while,  and  Kentuck  and  his  companions  found 
that  there  was  something  doing  in  the  Flat. 

The  one  long  street,  from  the  foot  of  the  hill  through 
the  town  to  the  crossing  of  the  Clear  Fork,  was  alive 
with  men  and  horses  and  in  many  places  near  the  supply 
stores  wagons  were  jammed  together  in  a  way  that 
almost  stopped  travel. 

As  these  four  young  men,  standing  there  in  the  early 
morning  of  their  first  day  on  the  extreme  frontier  of 
Texas,  looked  down  upon  this  wonderful  picture,  it  re- 
quired a  great  effort  to  realize  their  surroundings. 

The  sun  was  mounting  a  clear  sky  and  his  effulgent 
rays  lighted  up  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Off  to  the  right  of  the  town  they  could  see  their  own 
camp,  and  a  half  mile  below  the  Tonkawa  tepees  in  an 
irregular  group  under  the  pecan  trees,  and  their  gaunt, 
wiry  ponies  grazing  near  by.  This  was  Chief  Johnson's 
camp,  the  leader  of  the  government  scouts,  always  called 


28  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

into  service  when  a  detachment  of  troops  were  sent  out 
after  hostile  bands  of  Comanches,  whose  moonlight  raids 
terrorized  the  white  settlements. 

On  this  particular  morning  while  the  young  men  were 
near  the  fort,  the  chief  and  a  band  of  painted  warriors 
passed  by,  to  respond  to  a  summons  from  the  "White 
Chief."  They  were  decked  out  in  all  the  gaudy  trappings 
that  their  savage  pride  could  devise. 

Not  far  behind  the  Indians  came  a  bunch  of  cowboys 
from  a  near-by  ranch  who  had  spent  a  night  of  carousal 
in  the  dance  halls  and  saloons  and  were  now  making 
an  early  start  for  home  before  the  range  boss  sent  in  a 
courier  to  round  them  up.  They  rode  in  that  careless, 
bravado  style  that  belongs  to  the  plainsmen  who  make 
their  home  in  the  saddle.  There  was  a  devil-may-care 
expression  on  their  countenances  as  they  passed  by  and 
shouted : 

"Howdy,  tenderfoot!  When  did  you  stray  from  the 
home  range  ?" 

After  this  interruption  the  young  men  again  turned 
their  attention  to  the  increasing  activity  in  the  Flat. 

All  the  space  not  occupied  by  houses  was  covered  with 
ricks  of  buffalo  hides,  representing  the  winter's  hunt, 
ready  to  be  transported  to  Dallas,  Denison  or  Fort 
Worth,  150  to  200  miles  distant. 

By  reason  of  the  condition  that  brought  Fort  Griffin 
into  existence  it  formed  an  attraction  for  all  kinds  and 
character  of  men,  each  in  his  own  way  striving  to  make 
money ;  some  honestly,  many  dishonestly. 

The  jolly  buffalo  hunter  and  the  festive  cowboy  were 
fleeced  of  their  last  dollar  by  the  gamblers  and  sharpers, 
and  saw  their  wages  "go  glimmering  like  a  schoolboy's 
dream,"  leaving  nothing  but  an  uncomfortable  feeling 
and  empty  pockets. 


THE  TENDERFOOT  29 

It  was  the  palmy  days  of  Fort  Griffin,  when  money 
flowed  like  water  through  the  avenues  of  business,  and 
men  handled  it  with  the  same  careless  indifference  that 
merchants  handled  bacon,  flour  and  potatoes.  Not  hun- 
dreds but  thousands  of  dollars  changed  hands  each  day. 
And  one  day  spent  in  the  Flat,  and  one  night  among  the 
denizens  who  frequented  the  resorts,  would  convince  any 
man  that  it  was  not  a  question  of  price,  but  whether  the 
supply  would  hold  out. 

"Well,"  said  Kentuck,  as  he  looked  down  at  the  motley 
throng,  "if  I  were  searching  the  universe  to  verify  the 
characters  represented  in  dime  novels,  I  would  go  no 
farther." 

After  lingering  until  the  sun  was  three  hours  above 
the  eastern  horizon,  on  his  way  toward  the  noonday 
division  of  time,  Kentuck  led  the  way  down  the  hill  on 
the  journey  back  to  camp. 

As  they  passed  along  the  avenue,  here  and  there  were 
Uncle  Sam's  boys  in  blue,  loitering  among  the  throng 
with  that  sang-froid  of  the  trained  soldier,  who  cares 
little  for  the  conventionalities  of  civil  life. 

Dick  was  in  a  bad  humor  over  the  delay  and  had 
everything  packed  into  the  wagon  and  the  horses  har- 
nessed ready  to  drive  into  the  town. 

"You  are  a  nice  set  of  jays,  ar'n't  you?  I  call  it  real 
shabby  treatment  to  ask  a  gent  to  cook  a  warm  breakfast 
and  then  go  snoozing  around  until  everything  is  as  cold 
as  a  dog's  nose.  Oh,  you'll  get  a  breakfast  here,  I  don't 
think !  So  jump  right  in  and  we  are  off.  No  back  talk, 
if  you  please.  I'm  as  mad  as  a  wet  hen." 

And  there  was  no  back  talk,  for  what's  the  use  trying 
to  argue  with  a  man  when  he  has  made  up  his  mind  not 
to  hear  you?  The  boys  jumped  in  and  Dick  cracked  his 
whip  viciously  as  they  forded  the  Clear  Fork.  Covered 


30  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

wagons  being  the  means  of  transportation  in  those  days, 
the  four  young  men  and  their  guide  were  given  but  little 
attention  as  they  drove  through  this  busy  mart  to  the 
supply  store  at  the  foot  of  Government  Hill. 

After  seven  days  overland  from  Fort  Worth  they  had 
arrived  at  the  end  of  their  journey,  and  the  contract  with 
Dick  for  his  services  and  the  use  of  his  wagon  and  team 
was  complete.  They  had  now  arrived  at  their  destina- 
tion. Two  weeks  of  jolly  comradeship,  with  the  wagon 
performing  the  double  service  of  shelter  and  transporta- 
tion, had  cemented  a  bond  of  friendship  that  made  them 
give  more  than  a  passing  thought  to  the  future.  Not  a 
word  had  been  spoken  by  a  member  of  the  party  during 
their  long  journey,  looking  ahead  beyond  their  point  of 
destination.  Dick  having  fulfilled  his  contract,  proposed 
to  rest  over  a  day  and  return  East.  This  decision  neces- 
sitated a  hurried  consultation  of  the  four  young  men, 
and,  from  the  vexed  expression  on  each  face,  it  appeared 
a  difficult  problem  to  solve.  Finally  they  agreed  to  leave 
it  an  open  question  until  the  next  morning,  when  Dick 
was  directed  to  call  for  an  answer,  whether  they  would 
remain  or  return  the  route  they  came. 

When  Dick  pulled  up  in  front  of  Conrad  &  Rath's  big 
supply  store,  an  obliging  clerk,  dressed  in  a  blue  flannel 
shirt,  ducking  overalls,  top  boots  and  a  broad-brimmed 
hat,  introducing  himself  as  George  Wilhelm,  kindly  di- 
rected Kentuck  and  his  companions  to  a  low,  rambling 
picket  house,  where  he  informed  them  they  could  be 
accommodated  with  "chuck"  (something  to  eat)  and  a 
place  to  spread  their  blankets  upon  the  floor.  Following 
directions,  they  secured  lodgings ;  then,  giving  way  to 
natural  curiosity,  they  started  out  on  a  tour  of  observa- 
tion, notwithstanding  Hank  Smith,  the  obliging  landlord, 
told  them  that  it  was  the  time  of  the  day  when  there  was 
nothing  doing. 


THE  TENDERFOOT  31 

Consequently,  beyond  the  novelty  and  newness  of  the 
situation,  they  discovered  nothing  very  exciting  in  their 
rounds,  and,  becoming  weary  walking,  they  returned  to 
the  platform  in  front  of  the  supply  store  and  stood 
watching  the  cowboys  and  buffalo  hunters  going  in  and 
out,  buying  the  necessaries  for  ranch  and  camp. 

While  thus  peacefully  occupied,  with  no  thought  or 
premonition  of  danger,  there  came  a  sudden  interruption, 
like  the  swoop  of  a  Kansas  cyclone,  and  these  four  "ten- 
derfeet"  were  treated  to  a  Western  transformation  scene 
that  made  each  particular  hair  on  their  heads  rise  up  in 
protest. 

Out  of  a  near-by  saloon  door  there  came  staggering 
into  the  street  a  heavy-set,  bow-legged  terror  of  the  most 
approved  "Wild  West"  type,  with  all  of  his  beastly,  sav- 
age nature  predominating.  His  Mexican  sombrero  rested 
upon  the  back  of  his  head,  revealing  his  vicious  face, 
over  which  locks  of  his  unkempt  hair  straggled,  giving 
him  the  appearance  of  a  bull  on  a  rampage.  He  was  en- 
veloped in  the  disorder  of  a  mixed  costume,  that  in 
comparison,  would  put  "Buffalo  Bill's"  cowboys  out  of 
commission.  The  high  pointed  heels  of  his  cowboy  boots 
were  ornamented  with  Mexican  spurs,  the  rowels  two 
inches  in  diameter,  that  rolled  along  the  ground  with  a 
clatter  that  always  attracted  attention.  And,  as  he  sham- 
bled along,  he  rocked  like  a  ship  in  a  choppy  sea.  It 
would  have  been  difficult  to  have  poised  upon  those  stilted 
heels  when  duly  sober,  much  less  with  a  full  load  of 
"booze." 

But  the  most  disquieting  thing  to  these  four  young 
men  was  the  belt  of  cartridges  and  two  six-shooters 
around  his  waist.  And  he  was  not  long  in  putting  his 
artillery  into  action. 

Pirouetting  into  the  middle  of  the  street  he  gave  a 


32  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

piercing  yell,  resembling  a  combination  warwhoop  and 
steam  whistle. 

"I'm  the  'Bad  Man  from  Bitter  creek.'  Higher  up  the 
creek  you  go,  the  bigger  they  grow,  and  I'm  right  off  the 
head  waters —  ( bang ! — bang — bang — bang ! ! ! )  Turn 
your  wolf  loose — (bang — bang — bang!!!)"  The  roar  of 
his  six-shooters  was  almost  drowned  by  a  series  of  sav- 
age yells. 

The  effect  on  the  "tenderfeet"  was  startling  indeed. 
In  fact,  they  stampeded,  in  anticipation  of  the  wholesale 
slaughter  of  all  who  were  within  range  of  those  deadly- 
looking  guns.  It  was  sure  a  nerve-racking  situation  for 
strangers,  and  proved  too  much  for  Kentuck  and  his 
companions,  who  made  a  dash  for  the  door  of  the  supply 
store,  where  they  hoped  to  escape  from  this  savage  ogre. 
But  the  obliging  clerk,  who  stepped  aside  to  permit  them 
to  enter,  did  not  in  the  least  seem  excited  over  the  affair, 
nor  did  it  disturb  the  routine  of  business  in  the  store, 
notwithstanding  these  inexperienced  young  men  had 
never  seen  so  much  unadulterated  cussedness  compressed 
into  a  human  tornado. 

This  episode  proved  a  crucial  moment  in  the  lives  of 
these  four  young  men,  who  unconsciously  made  a  deci- 
sion that  controlled  their  destinies  the  rest  of  their  lives. 

"There  comes  marshal  Bill  Gilson,"  some  one  re- 
marked when  the  strangers  recovered  from  their  aston- 
ishment. 

"That  fellow,"  pointing  to  the  Terror  of  the  West, 
"will  soon  be  playing  checkers  with  his  nose  through  the 
bars  of  the  calaboose." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  Kentuck,  "that  one  man 
will  capture  so  ferocious  an  animal  as  that  without  assist- 
ance?" 

"Wait  and  see,"   said   George   Wilhelm,   pointing  to 


THE  TENDERFOOT  33 

where  a  man  came  leisurely  up  the  sidewalk,  making  his 
way  toward  the  scene  of  the  disturbance. 

Proceedings  were  growing  very  interesting  to  Ken- 
tuck  and  his  friends,  who  were  watching  the  maneuvers 
of  the  marshal  and  this  "ring-tailed  tooter"  from  Bitter 
creek. 

Judge  of  their  surprise  when  the  marshal  walked  up  to 
this  wild  man,  and  instead  of  a  bloody  encounter  he 
grasped  him  by  the  collar  with  one  hand  and  shoved  a 
pistol  in  his  face  with  the  other. 

"Give  up  those  shooting-irons,  Bud,  and  come  along 
with  me  to  the  calaboose." 

The  change  that  came  over  the  countenance  of  the 
Terror  of  the  West  would  have  been  a  credit  to  Alf. 
Burnett,  or  any  facial  showman.  His  under  jaw  ap- 
peared to  unhinge  from  its  socket,  while  his  eyes  rolled 
up  in  amazement,  and  his  six-shooters  slipped  from  his 
grasp  as  if  his  hands  were  paralyzed. 

Turning  to  Wilhelm,  Kentuck  remarked,  "Can  such 
things  be,  and  overcome  us  like  a  summer  cloud,  with- 
out our  special  wonder?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "he  is  one  of  those  toughs  escaped 
from  justice  in  the  older  States,  who  assume  the  role  of 
a  cowboy  and  bring  disgrace  on  the  calling.  If  you 
decide  to  remain  and  become  a  citizen  of  this  part  of 
Texas,  you  will  soon  learn  that  a  few  bad  men  in  any 
community  are  sufficient  to  damn  all  its  citizens  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people  in  the  East.  You  will  also  learn 
that,  with  these  few  exceptions,  you  have  never  lived 
among  a  braver  and  more  kind-hearted  people." 

Though  little  was  said  during  the  remainder  of  the 
day  relative  to  the  incident  at  the  supply  store,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  it  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  Kentuck's 
three  companions,  for  it  required  only  the  additional  ex- 

3 


34  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

perience  of  the  night  to  decide  them  to  return  with  Dick 
on  the  morrow. 

But  Kentuck,  who  came  from  the  mountain  region  of 
his  native  State,  loved  the  freedom  of  frontier  life, 
and  decided  to  remain. 

-As  soon  as  the  shades  of  night  began  to  settle  o'er  the 
town,  sounds  of  music  were  heard  in  those  dens  of 
iniquity  where  "Mephisto"  could  not  have  improved  much 
on  the  conditions ;  where  "wine  and  women"  reigned 
supreme.  His  satanic  majesty,  when  he  held  high  car- 
nival in  the  region  of  the  damned,  could  not  surpass 
the  scenes  in  a  frontier  dance  hall. 

The  ribald  sport  rarely  ended  until  the  streaks  of 
dawn  appeared  in  the  East;  then  like  the  coyotes  that 
made  the  night  hideous  with  their  yelping,  the  inmates 
of  these  dance  halls  disappeared,  and  nothing  more  was 
heard  or  seen  of  them  until  night  once  more  threw  her 
sable  mantle  over  mother  earth. 

Among  this  conglomerate  mass  of  dare-devil  reckless- 
ness and  cunning  viciousness  there  were  a  few  brave  and 
true  men,  risking  their  lives  in  a  determined  effort  to  lay 
the  foundation  for  legitimate  business  enterprises.  They 
were  largely  composed  of  bright  young  men  from  the 
crowded  districts  in  the  old  home  State,  or  some  unfortu- 
nate business  man  who  came  to  grief  in  some  speculative 
venture,  and  came  to  the  frontier  to  begin  to  retrieve  his 
losses  and  make  a  new  home  for  his  family.  They  were 
willing  to  undertake  the  hardships  and  brave  the  dangers 
of  pioneer  life  ftiat  they  might  secure  the  reward  of  in- 
creased values.  Consequently,  the  history  of  ranch  and 
range  on  the  frontier  of  Texas  during  the  '703  and  '8os 
would  be  as  interesting  reading  and  as  voluminous  as  the 
stories  of  those  famous  days  of  California  in  '49. 

But  pardon  this  digression  and  let  us  not  lose  sight  of 


THE  TENDERFOOT  35 

Kentuck  and  his  companions,  who  were  spending  their 
first  night  in  the  Flat. 

Under  the  protecting  care  of  Wilhelm  and  the  mar- 
shal, they  made  the  rounds  of  four  dance  halls,  eight 
saloons  and  three  gambling  dens. 

It  was  a  revelation  that  taxed  their  credulity,  not- 
withstanding their  experience  of  the  early  evening.  In 
"the  glare  of  lamplight  half  drunk  men  and  abandoned 
women  were  whirling  around  the  dingy  rooms  of  the 
dance  halls,  while  musicians  were  trying  to  pound  har- 
mony out  of  broken-down  pianos  with  squeaky  fiddle 
accompaniments. 

In  each  of  these  halls  the  bars  were  near  the  entrance, 
to  accommodate  the  spectators,  who  were  given  seats  in 
front,  that  they  might  see  but  not  interfere  with  the 
dancers. 

Cowboys,  hunters  and  soldiers,  all  booted,  spurred 
and  armed,  waiting  their  turn  to  engage  in  this  hilarious 
sport,  for  as  a  matter  of  business  the  proprietors  required 
the  women  to  change  partners  at  the  end  of  each  dance. 

From  the  raised  platform  of 'the  musicians  the  profes- 
sional caller  prompted  the  dancers : 

"Gents,  secure  your  partners  for  the  next  dance.  All 
ready  when  the  band  begins  to  play.  Now  you're  lined 
up,  toe  the  mark  and  salute  your  ladies.  First  and  third 
couples  forward  and  back ;  forward  again  and  cross  over ; 
second  and  fourth  do  likewise  and  never  stop  until  you  are 
all  over ;  gents  to  the  right  and  ladies  to  the  left ;  swing 
your  opposite,  then  swing  your  partner ;  now  grand  right 
and  left;  first  and  second  forward  and  back;  forward 
again  and  return  to  your  places ;  side  couples  follow  their 
lead  and  return  home;  balance  all,  swing  your  partners 
and  all  run  away.  All  waltz  to  the  bar  and  gents  treat 
your  ladies.  All  ready  for  the  next  set." 


36  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

Fast  and  furious  the  sport  grew  as  the  stimulating 
effects  of  the  whisky  fired  the  heated  blood  of  men  and 
women  as  the  hours  passed  by. 

"Come  on,  boys,"  said  Wilhelm ;  "the  pot  is  simmering 
and  it  may  boil  over  any  minute,  and  we  don't  want  to  be 
scalded." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Kentuck. 

"That  whisky  and  shooting-irons  make  a  dangerous 
combination,  and  when  you  throw  a  lot  of  women  in  for 
good  measure  there  is  sure  to  be  serious  trouble,"  re- 
plied Wilhelm.  "We  will  have  a  dead  man  for  breakfast 
in  the  morning,  tenderfoot,  and  if  you  don't  want  to 
ornament  a  coffin,  we  had  better  hike  out." 

It  was  10  p.  m.  when  the  four  returned  to  Hank 
Smith's  and  rolled  up  in  their  blankets. 

The  cocks  were  crowing  for  midnight  when  the  storm 
of  passion  broke  through  all  restraint,  and  a  shooting 
bee  was  opened  by  the  cowboys  in  the  red  light  dis- 
trict. 

Kentuck  and  his  companions  were  awakened  out  of  a 
sound  slumber  by  the  first  shots.  And  before  they  fairly 
realized  the  import  of  the  disturbance  a  regular  gunshot 
serenade  was  being  pulled  off. 


CHAPTER   II 


BREAKING  IN  THE  "  TENDERFOOT  " 

To   have   unsophisticated   confidence   is   among   the   dangerous 

things ; 
The  audience  will  loudly  applaud  while  the  fool  dances  and  sings. 

The  night's  performance  proved  to  be  the  last  argu- 
ment necessary  to  convince  Kentuck's  three  companions 
that  Fort  Griffin  was  neither  a  safe  or  desirable  place 
to  live.  And  when  Dick  arrived  at  the  hotel  in  early 
morning  he  found  them  ready  to  accompany  him  on  his 
return  trip. 

But  Kentuck  decided  to  remain  and  cast  his  lot  with 
the  brave  men  who  were  gradually  transforming  the  un- 
tamed West  into  a  civilized  country  where  men  and 
women  could  build  thrifty  homes. 

And  notwithstanding  that  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  sin- 
cere regret  that  he  parted  with  these  friends,  to  whom 
he  became  attached  during  their  journey  west,  and  that 
he  now  experienced  a  sense  of  loneliness  as  he  saw  them 
depart  on  their  way  east,  he  braced  himself  with  an 
effort  to  face  whatever  the  future  had  in  store  for  him. 

And,  oh,  if  some  true  prophet  could  have  cast  the 
horoscope  of  that  future,  no  doubt  Kentuck,  too,  might 
have  weakened  at  the  last  moment  and  returned  to  his 
old  home  on  the  La  Belle  river,  where  the  swift  current 
floated  the  commerce  of  the  mountains  to  the  markets  of 
the  world,  and  where  magnificent  floating  palaces  carried 
travelers  on  an  enjoyable  voyage  over  the  blue  waters 
to  some  distant  city. 

37 


38  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

But  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator  has  kindly  veiled  the 
evil  and  the  good  that  lies  in  the  path  of  the  unknown 
future  that  every  man  must  explore.  Therefore  the  man 
from  the  mountains  of  Kentucky  became  a  citizen  of 
the  prairie  country  of  Texas. 

Remembering  that  about  six  months  before  his  de- 
parture from  his  native  State  he  had  been  told  that  an 
old  schoolmate  by  the  name  of  Jacobs  was  somewhere  in 
the  vicinity  of  Fort  Griffin,  Kentuck  hunted  up  the  oblig- 
ing clerk  at  Conrad  &  Rath's  store  and  made  inquiry 
relative  to  the  whereabouts  of  Jacobs. 

"Say,  mister — " 

"Oh,  shucks,  my  name  isn't  mister — only  plain  George, 
with  Wilhelm  thrown  in  for  good  measure.  What  might 
your  name  be,  stranger?" 

"Well,  the  boys  who  went  back  east  with  Dick  called 
me  Kentuck,  but  my  real  name  is — " 

"Hold  on,  pard;  there  is  no  necessity  of  giving  your- 
self away ;  we  don't  care  what  your  real  name  was  before 
you  came  to  Texas,  and  maybe  it  is  not  good  policy,  for 
some  one  might  write  back  to  the  sheriff." 

"But,  Wilhelm,  you  are  mistaken,  I — " 

"Drop  it,  pard ;  Kentuck  is  good  enough  name  to  camp 
out  with,  and  if  the  society  of  the  Flat  wishes  to  look 
up  your  credentials  they  will  not  take  the  trouble  until 
after  they  string  you  up  to  a  tree.  Now  can  I  be  of  any 
service  to  you?" 

"Well — yes,  perhaps.  Say,  do  you  happen  to  know  a 
man  named  Jacobs — Henry  Jacobs  ?" 

"Do  I  know  a  man  named  Jacobs  ?  Say,  you  .are  not 
an  officer,  are  you?" 

"Of  course  not.  Jacobs  and  I  are  old  schoolmates 
from  the  same  town  in  Kentucky.  He  came  to  Texas 
several  years  ago,  and  about  six  months  past  some  one 
received  a  letter  from  him  mailed  at  this  place." 


BREAKING  IN   THE  TENDERFOOT  39 

"Well,  may  I  be  pitched  over  the  river  by  a  bucking 
broncho  if  that  don't  cinch  it.  Yes,  Jacobs  is  here  as 
big  as  life,  trying  to  hold  down  the  job  of  sheriff,  but 
it  seems  too  big  for  one  man  to  tackle." 

"Where  can  I  find  him,  Wilhelm?" 

"Well,  you  are  a  tenderfoot,  all  right.  Find  Jacobs? 
Say,  pard,  you  bunk  with  me  tonight.  Jacobs  is  on  the 
hike  somewhere  after  a  bunch  of  cattle  rustlers." 

"By  himself?" 

"Oh,  no;  there  are  a  dozen  cattlemen  with  him,  and 
if  they  capture  the  rustlers  they  will  return  soon." 

"Who  will  return?" 

"Why,  the  sheriff  and  the  cattlemen.  Now  make  your- 
self at  home.  We  will  go  down  to  Uncle  Billy  Wilson's 
for  dinner.  If  you  intend  to  live  out  here  with  the  boys 
it  is  necessary  to  start  off  on  the  right  foot.  Now, 
Uncle  Billy  runs  the  swell  eating  joint  in  the  Flat,  and 
if  you  are  going  to  be  social  I'll  introduce  you  to  the 
aristocratic  circle  of  long-horns,  who  are  very  particular 
about  the  pedigree  of  a  new  comer." 

Of  course  this  conversation  was  not  calculated  to  make 
Kentuck  entirely  at  his  ease,  for  the  half  jocular  manner 
of  Wilhelm  was  not  altogether  proof  of  his  sincerity. 
Nevertheless,  he  then  and  there  made  up  his  mind  to 
accept  the  situation,  even  if  his  ignorance  subjected  him 
to  the  ridicule  of  the  long-horns. 

Uncle  Billy's  house  was  not  only  a  popular  eating  re- 
sort, but  also  the  stage  stand  on  the  overland  trail  to 
El  Paso.  And  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  Uncle  Billy  and 
his  wife,  both  man  and  beast  were  comfortably  quartered 
and  fed,  notwithstanding  the  appearance  from  the  out- 
side was  not  inviting. 

The  name  Wilson  was  misleading,  for  Uncle  Billy  was 
Irish  to  the  core,  with  all  the  ready  wit  that  has  made 
the  sons  of  the  Emerald  Isle  famous. 


40  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Wilhelm  introduced  Kentuck  as  a  friend  of  Sheriff 
Jacobs. 

"A  friend  of  Jacobs,  is  it,  Georgie?  Faith  and  he's  as 
welcome  as  the  flowers  in  May.  Come  right  in,  mister 
Kentuck,  and  mother  Wilson  will  be  after  dropping  a 
grain  of  coffee  into  the  pot  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 
And  if  the  auld  hen  has  been  obedient  to  the  laws  of 
nature,  you  shall  have  an  omelet  on  the  side  and  a  roast 
buffalo  hump  in  the  middle  of  the  table.  But  don't  yez 
soil  the  cloth,  me  boy;  'tis  the  only  one  we  have,  and  if 
the  President  should  arrive  on  the  stage,  divil  the  time 
would  there  be  washing  and  ironing  it." 

"Oh,  Billy  stop  your  palavering  and  carry  the  grub 
to  the  table,  for  I'm  sure  the  gintlemen  are  hungry." 

"Coming,  me  dear,  like  a  mountain  goat  down  a  Cali- 
fornia canyon  when  a  grizzly  is  after  him." 

Uncle  Billy  was  a  '49er,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity 
to  remind  his  guests  of  the  fact. 

But,  with  all  his  faults,  he  was  generous  and  whole- 
souled,  and  a  popular  character  with  all  classes. 

The  dining  room  of  the  Hotel  de  Wilson  was  long, 
with  a  low  ceiling  and  dingy  walls — no  chairs  or  other 
modern  furniture  to  add  to  the  comfort  or  as  an  apology 
for  ornamentation.  Long  benches  met  the  demand  for 
seating  capacity  to  the  table  that  occupied  the  center  of 
the  room.  Even  the  customary  hatrack  was  missing. 
But  one  soon  forgot  the  rough  appearance  when  seated 
around  the  sumptuous  display  of  good  things  from 
Mother  Wilson's  pantry. 

The  color  line  alone  was  drawn  at  this  table,  and  he 
who  possessed  the  price  of  a  meal  received  accommoda- 
tion. Ranchmen,  cowboys,  buffalo  hunters  and  soldiers 
met  on  a  common  level.  It  was  a  good-natured,  free 
and  easy  crowd  that  lined  up  on  either  side  of  the  long 
table  when  Wilhelm  and  Kentuck  entered. 


BREAKING   IN   THE  TENDERFOOT  41 

Naturally  all  eyes  were  turned  on  the  stranger,  with 
glances  both  curious  and  critical,  as  if  they  were  sizing 
him  up  to  determine  just  where  he  would  fit  in.  But 
Wilhelm  soon  relieved  the  situation  by  introducing  Ken- 
tuck  as  an  old  pard  of  Sheriff  Jacobs,  just  arrived  from 
the  "moonshine"  district  to  escape  the  revenue  officers 
of  Uncle  Sam. 

"Howdy,  howdy  do,  Kentuck?" 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  gents,"  replied  Kentuck. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  several. 

"Say,  you  bronco  busters,  slide  along  and  give  Wil- 
helm and  Kentuck  a  fair  deal ;  they  look  empty  from  their 
chins  to  their  toes,"  remarked  Mart  Gentry. 

"I  don't  see  why  Conrad  hasn't  put  Wilhelm  in  a  cage 
and  fed  him  on  hay.  He  would  make  a  drawing  card 
for  the  Tonks,"  said  Mike  Kegan. 

"Oh,  that's  too  easy ;  the  old  man  has  caught  on  to  the 
mutual  admiration  between  Wilhelm  and  Sallie  Wash- 
ington, and  don't  propose  to  give  a  free  exhibition  of  the 
Pocahontas  and  Captain  Smith  act.  Sabef"  said  Jeff 
Keenan. 

"I'm  willing  to  chip  in  four  bits  to  see  the  perform- 
ance," said  Jim  Browning. 

"So  will  I,  so  will  I,"  chorused  the  crowd. 

"Say,  you  blamed  galoots,  close  your  fly-traps,"  re- 
torted Wilhelm. 

A  general  laugh  followed. 

Good-natured  badinage  was  kept  up  during  the  entire 
meal,  and  Kentuck  soon  learned  to  make  himself  easy 
among  his  rough-and-ready  companions.  Many  of  them 
were  diamonds  in  the  rough,  that  only  required  polish 
and  setting  to  be  gems  of  the  first  water.  Their  friend- 
ship was  not  half-hearted,  but  frank  and  generous  to  a 
fault,  ready  at  all  times  to  extend  a  helping  hand  and 


42  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

a  strong  arm  to  support  and  defend  him  when  adversity 
threatened  or  danger  menaced. 

As  the  days  passed  and  he  became  more  accustomed  to 
the  new  conditions,  Kentuck  lost  no  opportunity  to  make 
friends.  Consequently,  before  ten  days  had  elapsed  he 
gained  the  confidence  of  many  of  the  most  substantial 
citizens  of  the  town,  as  well  as  forming  a  bond  of  com- 
radeship with  the  better  class  of  cowboys  on  the  near-by 
ranches,  though  not  without  some  harrowing  experiences 
at  the  hands  of  those  rollicking  comrades,  who  took  a 
malicious  delight  in  breaking  in  the  "tenderfoot." 

As  a  sample  of  their  careful  attention  to  the  strict 
rules  of  frontier  etiquette,  it  is  only  necessary  to  relate 
one  Sunday  morning's  experience. 

More  through  force  of  habit  than  any  desire  to  appear 
different  from  established  custom,  Kentuck  made  the  mis- 
take of  shaving,  adorning  his  person  with  a  white  shirt 
and  blacking  his  boots,  to  say  nothing  of  the  suit  of  store 
clothes  that  defied  precedent.  Now  if  there  is  anything 
in  this  wide  world  that  will  amuse  the  festive  cowboy 
and  become  a  subject  of  derision  at  his  hands,  it  is  the 
man  who  has  the  hardihood  to  appear  in  the  range  coun- 
try dressed  as  above  described.  And  it  is  doubtful  if  any 
one  going  through  the  trying  ordeal  of  being  made  a  tar- 
get of  their  sarcasm  will  ever  repeat  the  experiment. 

Having  no  premonition  of  the  rough  treatment  that 
awaited  the  dude  "tenderfoot"  from  the  mountains  of 
old  Kentucky,  after  carefully  grooming  himself  the  "ten- 
derfoot" walked  carelessly  out  of  doors  and  stood  aim- 
lessly looking  around,  with  no  definite  object  in  view. 

It  is  true  that  in  a  casual  way  he  noticed  a  bunch  of 
cowboys  ride  up,  throw  their  bridle  reins  upon  the  ground 
and  saunter  leisurely  in  his  direction,  but  not  until  they 
opened  up  the  batteries  of  their  sarcasm  did  Kentuck 
suspect  their  motive  in  surrounding  him. 


BREAKING  IN   THE  TENDERFOOT  43 

"Say,  boys,  just  cast  your  optics  on  this  fine-haired 
cuss.  Regular  'jim-dandy,'  ain't  he?  A  dude  'tender- 
foot' from  societyville.  Look  at  his  boiled  shirt  and  fried 
collar.  Wonder  where  he  keeps  his  pie-box?  He  is  an 
imported  shorthorn  from  the  East.  Say,  boss,  is  that  hat 
a  breech-loader?  What  was  your  name  before  you  came 
to  Texas?  Guess  you  can  get  free  transportation  back 
home  if  you  write  to  the  sheriff  for  it,  can't  you  ?" 

These  and  a  similar  string  of  questions  greeted  the  ears 
of  the  bewildered  Kentuck  as  the  boys  formed  a  closer 
circle  and  began  to  take  too  much  liberty  on  short  ac- 
quaintance. And  not  without  the  most  severe  test  of  his 
patience  did  he  manage  to  control  his  anger  while  dirty 
fingers  left  their  imprint  upon  his  shirt  front,  changing 
it  from  white  to  a  variegated  brown,  while  the  shining 
polish  on  his  boots  was  covered  with  tobacco  juice.  And, 
not  content  with  these  indignities,  one  of  the  roisterers 
stepped  up  and  lifted  the  derby  from  his  head  and,  at  a 
given  signal,  tossed  it  high  in  the  air,  each  boy  taking  a 
shot  at  it,  and  it  fell  with  a  dozen  bullet  holes  through  it 
as  a  proof  of  excellent  marksmanship. 

How  long  Kentuck  would  have  been  subjected  to  this 
rough  sport  had  not  Sheriff  Jacobs  come  to  his  rescue  is 
a  question.  But  after  an  introduction  all  around  to  each 
of  his  tormenters,  Kentuck  was  voted  the  freedom  of* 
the  Texas  frontier.  And  from  that  day  until  this  good 
hour  he  has  never  had  occasion  to  regret  his  Sunday 
morning's  initiation  by  the  cowboys. 

And  here  let  it  be  understood  that,  by  common  consent, 
there  was  an  unwritten  law  of  the  frontier  that  did  not 
permit  innovations  in  manners  or  dress,  but  required 
strict  conformity  to  established  costume,  consisting  of  a 
broad-brim  hat,  flannel  shirt,  ducking  overalls  and  top 
boots.  Consequently,  a  man  dressed  in  the  fashionable 


44  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

attire  of  the  East  attracted  as  much  attention  on  the 
frontier  as  a  cowboy  would  on  Broadway,  New  York. 

From  this  time  on,  during  all  the  years  of  the  open 
range  life  in  Northwest  Texas,  Kentuck  was  a  welcome 
guest  whenever  he  cared  to  visit  the  cowboys'  camp.  No 
matter  how  limited  the  supply  of  blankets,  there  was 
always  room  and  a  chance  to  be  counted  in  when  the 
cook  invited  the  gents  to  step  up  and  get  their  "chuck." 

But  even  this  strong  bond  of  friendship  did  not  pre- 
vent some  mischievous  cuss  from  playing  pranks  on  the 
"tenderfoot." 

Kentuck  will  not  forget,  so  long  as  he  is  permitted  to 
live,  his  first  attempt  to  ride  a  bucking  broncho. 

It  was  a  beautiful  May  morning,  and  all  the  elements 
of  nature  seemed  to  invite  him  to  the  exhilarating  enjoy- 
ment of  a  ride  over  the  beautiful  prairie,  richly  clad  in 
its  springtime  garments  of  green  and  decked  in  the  bright 
hues  of  purple,  blue  and  red  flowers. 

He  was  visiting  friends  at  Lynch 's  ranch  and  had  saun- 
tered out  where  Tucker  and  Manning  were  corraling  a 
bunch  of  saddle  ponies. 

Expressing  a  desire  for  a  gentle  pony,  Tucker  kindly 
volunteered  to  rope  and  saddle  an  old  flea-bitten  gray 
that  looked  to  be  innocent  of  all  guile,  and  a  model  for 
all  ponies  that  take  kindly  to  the  duty  of  carrying  a  man 
on  a  journey  of  business  or  pleasure.  But  alas  for  the 
shattered  confidence  of  a  trusting  "tenderfoot,"  the  gen- 
tle, sleepy  appearance  of  the  old  gray  proved  a  "delusion 
and  a  snare,"  for  a  few  moments  later,  when  Kentuck 
was  astride  of  the  saddle  and  holding  the  reins  of  the 
bridle,  Tucker  insisted  on  tightening  the  flank-girth,  and 
you  ought  to  have  seen  that  old  "cayuse"  come  to  life. 

Say,  pard,  that  "outlaw"  had  graduated  in  the  thirty- 
third  degree  as  a  bucker  years  before  Kentuck  had  ever 


A  TENDERFOOT'S  FIRST  RIDE. 


BREAKING  IN   THE  TENDERFOOT  47 

dreamed  of  coming  to  the  Lone  Star  State.  He  dropped 
his  head  between  his  fore  legs  and  jumped  stiff-legged  up 
in  the  air,  with  all  four  feet  off  the  ground  at  the  same 
time,  with  such  an  impetus  that  Kentuck  vaulted  several 
feet  higher,  describing  a  semi-circle  as  he  descended  to 
the  ground. 

This  free  performance,  involuntarily  given  by  the 
"tenderfoot,"  was  very  much  appreciated  by  the  cowboys, 
who  expressed  hilarious  delight  in  describing  how  grace- 
fully he  ascended  from  the  saddle  and  turned  a  somer- 
sault in  the  air  before  striking  the  ground  a  few  feet  from 
old  Gray. 

This  propensity  for  playing  pranks,  even  on  one's  best 
friend,  was  one  of  the  characteristics  of  cowboy  life. 
And  the  only  consolation  to  the  victim  was  to  watch  his 
opportunity  to  pay  it  back  with  interest. 

It  was  during  this  same  visit  of  a  few  days  that  Ken- 
tuck  had  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  the  breaking  in  of 
another  tenderfoot,  known  among  the  boys  as  "Tennes- 
see," who  was  temporarily  residing  in  Albany,  with  a 
prospect  of  locating  a  drug  store,  and  had  been  directed 
to  consult  with  Judge  Lynch,  who  was  taking  consider- 
able interest  in  building  up  the  town,  at  that  time  con- 
sisting of  three  picket  houses  and  a  barnlike  structure, 
by  courtesy  called  a  courthouse.  The  judge  being  absent 
from  the  headquarters  ranch  on  a  visit  to  the  line 
riders'  camp  on  North  Prong,  Tennessee  was  given  di- 
rections where  to  find  him.  It  was  late  and  the  sun  was 
just  disappearing  behind  the  western  hills  when  Ten- 
nessee arrived,  and  all  hands,  including  the  judge,  were 
making  preparations  to  hold  a  small  herd  that  they  were 
drifting  back  to  the  home  range.  As  was  usual  on  such 
occasions,  arrangements  were  being  made  to  hold  the 
cattle  under  loose  herd  until  morning,  requiring  a  relay 


48  THE  QUIRT   AND  THE  SPUR 

of  two  men  on  guard,  to  prevent  them  drifting  back  over 
the  divide. 

Among  the  boys  around  the  camp  were  several  old 
range  men  who  had  engaged  in  many  rights  with  the  In- 
dians, who  raided  the  frontier  on  moonlight  nights,  car- 
rying off  horses  and  destroying  personal  property  of  the 
settlers. 

The  stories  told  by  these  men  were  always  a  fruitful 
source  from  which  to  prepare  the  mind  of  a  "tenderfoot" 
for  a  realistic  demonstration  of  a  midnight  attack  by  the 
red  marauders. 

The  probability  of  these  stories,  backed  up  with  cur- 
rent reports  on  the  range,  that  a  roving  band  of  Coman- 
ches  had  passed  down  the  old  trail  through  Mountain 
pass  and  the  Gap  at  Leadbetter's  Salt  Works,  as  far  east 
as  Jacksboro,  was  well  calculated  to  impress  a  "tender- 
foot" with  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  especially  as  this 
band  was  reported  to  be  headed  northwest,  killing  and 
scalping  scattered  families. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  situation,  Manning  and 
Tucker  fixed  up  and  played  successfully  a  villainous 
prank  upon  Tennessee. 

Judge  Lynch  was  a  typical  Irishman,  with  an  inherent 
love  for  sport,  and  entered  into  and  aided  the  conspiracy, 
by  relating  that  on  one  occasion  when  in  camp  on  the 
Clear  Fork,  the  Indians  had  stampeded  the  horses  and 
that  the  whole  bunch  ran  over  the  boys  before  they  could 
awake  and  get  out  of  the  way. 

As  was  customary  in  a  cow  camp,  before  turning  in 
for  the  night,  some  of  the  boys  circled  the  outskirts  to 
see  if  the  ponies  were  all  in  safe  distance  of  the  camp. 
This  furnished  the  plotters  the  pretext  to  report  Indian 
signs,  and  a  probability  of  an  attempt  to  steal  the  ponies 
during  the  night.  Manning  and  Tucker,  ringleaders 


BREAKING  IN   THE  TENDERFOOT  49 

and  co-conspirators,  were  detailed  by  Judge  Lynch  to 
stand  guard.  The  others  were  told  to  roll  up  in  their 
blankets  and  go  to  sleep,  as  it  would  do  no  good  to 
remain  awake  and  anticipate  something  that  might  never 
happen.  And  notwithstanding  the  exciting  report 
brought  in  by  Manning  after  they  had  all  retired,  that 
an  object  had  been  seen  moving  among  the  trees  along 
the  creek,  that  he  believed  was  an  Indian  spying  out  the 
situation,  it  was  not  long  until  the  drowsy  god  took  pos- 
session of  the  camp. 

Then  there  was  something  doing  on  North  Prong  that 
will  never  be  forgotten  by  the  man  from  Tennessee. 

As  soon  as  Manning  and  Tucker  became  convinced 
that  the  boys  in  camp  were  all  asleep,  they  got  busy  and 
began  to  carry  out  the  plot  by  detaching  the  chains  from 
the  chuck  wagon  and  gathering  all  articles  of  tinware 
that  would  make  as  much  noise  as  possible.  When  the 
preparations  were  complete  they  made  a  run  over  the 
sleeping  forms  of  their  companions,  rattling  the  chains 
and  tinware,  firing  their  six-shooters  and  shouting 
"Whoa !  whoa !  whoa !  Lookout,  boys !  Here  comes  the 
Indians!" 

Of  course,  pandemonium  broke  loose  in  that  cow  camp. 
Everybody  jumped  to  their  feet,  and  amid  the  bewilder- 
ing confusion  of  the  sudden  onslaught,  those  onto  the 
game  grasped  their  six-shooters  and  began  firing,  and 
two  fell  to  the  ground,  exclaiming,  "I'm  shot,  boys!" 
In  the  meantime  the  "tenderfoot"  from  Tennessee  sprang 
up  like  a  "jack-in-the-box"  and  ran  like  a  scared  turkey. 

It  was  at  least  a  half-hour  before  Judge  Lynch  could 
quiet  the  hilarious  laughter. 

A  searching  party  was  sent  out  and  it  was  more  than 
an  hour  before  the  "tenderfoot"  was  located  in  a  gully 
covered  with  undergrowth. 


50  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

It  took  all  the  persuasive  powers  of  the  entire  outfit 
to  induce  Tennessee  to  return  to  camp. 

Then  he  was  so  badly  frightened  that  he  would  not 
lie  down,  but  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  on  the 
alert. 

The  breaking  in  of  a  "tenderfoot"  was  always  a  source 
of  unbounded  amusement  for  the  cow  punchers,  and 
every  outfit  was  dominated  by  these  practical  jokers, 
who  rarely  hesitated,  even  at  the  risk  of  inflicting  injury 
to  the  victims. 

THE  GENUINE  Cow  PUNCHER 

The  language  of  the  range  was  made  up  largely  of 
localisms  coined  to  meet  the  conditions  of  ranch  life 
and  the  peculiarities  of  buffalo  hunting. 

Consequently,  when  Kentuck  made  his  advent  as  a 
"tenderfoot"  he  often  found  himself  sorely  puzzled  trying 
.  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  boys,  who  had  long  since  grad- 
uated in  the  science  of  mixing  the  Spanish  and  Indian 
terms  with  the  new-born  words  of  the  frontier. 

To  a  man  possessed  of  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  the 
conversation  carried  on  by  the  cowboys  or  the  buffalo 
hunters  furnished  no  end  of  amusement,  provided  you 
were  a  good  listener  and  not  inclined  to  butt  in. 

This  was  forcibly  demonstrated  one  morning  about  a 
week  after  Kentuck's  companions  had  departed,  leaving 
him  alone  to  face  the  future. 

He  was  in  company  with  Sheriff  Jacobs  and  his 
brother  John,  in  a  little  shanty  on  a  side  street  leading 
to  Griffin  avenue. 

The  arrival  of  a  buffalo  hunter  named  Joe  McCombs, 
from  the  camp  of  Poe  &  Jacobs  far  out  on  the  western 
range,  brought  forth  a  series  of  questions  and  answers. 

"Hello,  Joe !  give  us  your  paw,  old  man ;  here,  take  a 


BREAKING  IN   THE  TENDERFOOT  51 

nip  to  cut  the  dust  out  of  your  throat.  Where  is  your 
bronco  ?" 

"Petered  out  near  Phantom  Hill,  and  I  hoppled  him, 
and  I  had  to  huff  it  in." 

"How  are  the  boys  in  camp  ?" 

"So-so,  on  an  average — plenty  of  chuck,  but  no  ammu- 
nition." 

"Any  trouble  with  the  renegades  and  Indians?" 

"Nope,  not  much.  Little  flurry  last  month  when  a 
bunch  of  reds  broke  out  of  the  reservation  corral  near 
Fort  Sill  and  came  cavorting  down  into  the  Panhandle; 
dropped  a  few  lead  pills  into  our  camp  one  evening  and 
tried  to  stampede  the  ponies,  but  Poe  turned  loose  his 
45  and  they  skedaddled  over  the  sand  hills.  Then  a  lieu- 
tenant with  a  bunch  of  buffalo  soldiers  rounded  them  up 
and  drove  them  back  to  the  reservation." 

"Good  season,  Joe?" 

"Sorter,  nothing  extra.  Buffalo  getting  skittish.  Hard 
to  get  a  stand  on  'em  now." 

"Where  is  your  outfit  now?" 

"Over  the  Divide  on  the  Deep  creek  of  the  Colorado, 
not  far  from  Chisholm's  Hole  on  the  slant  of  the  mesa. 
Dandy  place;  plenty  of  grass  and  water;  oodles  of  tur- 
keys and  deer." 

"Herds  drifting?" 

"Yep,  grazing  north  along  the  brakes,  but  shy  at  the 
northers  on  the  plains." 

"When  will  you  return?" 

"As  soon  as  some  outfit  gives  me  a  lift  back  to  Phan- 
tom, where  I  can  catch  on  to  the  bronc  again." 

"Well,  drop  in  for  your  chuck  and  we  will  furnish  you 
a  layout  of  blankets  while  you  are  in  town." 

"Muy  gracias,  senor,  I'll  sure  bunk  with  you." 

"All  right,  Joe;  come  and  go  when  you  please,  old 
man,  and  no  questions  asked." 


52  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"You  are  sure  sociable  boys,  and  if  you  ever  hit  the 
range  there  will  be  a  welcome  waiting  for  you." 

"Well,  I'm  off  for  the  fort.  So  long,  Joe;  take  in  the 
town,  old  man,  but  don't  eat  any  dirt." 

"You  bet  your  life  there  will  be  something  doing  when 
Josephus  takes  in  the  town." 

"Well,  if  the  marshal  ropes  you  and  leads  you  into 
Justice  Steele's  court  send  for  me." 

"Sure  thing,  Jacobs." 


CHAPTER   III 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  TON- 
KAWA  INDIANS 

He  unbosomed  his  grief  and  sorrow  to  me; 
The  few  that  remain,  the  many  that  used  to  be. 

Among  the  many  diversions  that  attracted  Kentuck 
during  his  first  month  on  the  frontier  of  Texas,  none 
awakened  more  interest  than  his  visits  to  the  Tonkawa 
village  on  the  banks  of  the  Clear  Fork,  where  the  rem- 
nant of  a  once  powerful  tribe  of  Indians  lived. 

As  far  back  as  any  of  the  old  settlers  on  the  frontier 
could  remember,  the  Tonkawas  (Toncahuas)  had  been 
the  friends  of  the  white  people  and  the  deadly  enemy  of 
the  Yaquis,  Comanches,  Kickapoos,  Lapans,  Arapahoes, 
Apaches  and  Kiowas. 

During  the  early  period  when  might  made  right  among 
the  red  warriors,  the  Tonkawas  was  the  most  numerous 
and  powerful  tribe  in  Texas  (Tejas)  and  Old  Mexico, 
and  were  also  known  as  cannibals,  accused  of  killing  and 
eating  their  prisoners.  For  this  offense  the  other  tribes 
allied  themselves  and  waged  a  war  of  extermination 
against  them.  Very  little  its  known  of  this  long  and 
bloody  contest  But  that  it  was  carried  on  with  relentless 
hatred  and  cruel  vengeance  is  proven  by  the  results. 
That  the  allied  tribes  were  finally  victorious  is  within 
itself  evidence  that  in  reducing  the  powerful  Tonkawas 
to  a  small  band  of  fugitives,  they,  too,  must  have  suffered 
the  loss  of  thousands  of  warriors. 

53 


54  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Like  all  people  when  defeated  and  humiliated,  the  Ton- 
kawas  were  very  reticent  when  asked  about  the  past  his- 
tory of  the  tribe. 

And  it  may  be  that  the  old  warriors  were  loth  to  admit 
the  truth,  and  purposely  avoided  telling  the  younger  gen- 
eration. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  sufficient  was  known  to  convince 
Kentuck  that  there  was  a  very  interesting  story  con- 
nected with  this  war,  dating  back  beyond  the  time  when 
the  white  settlers  occupied  the  Indian  country.  And, 
like  all  information  hard  to  obtain,  it  made  him  more 
determined. 

Being  convinced,  after  several  visits,  that  the  desired 
information  was  stored  in  the  memory  of  Old  Campo,  the 
ancient  Medicine  Man  of  the  tribe,  reported  to  be  no 
years  old,  Kentuck  lost  no  time  making  a  friend  of  the 
centenarian,  who  was  induced  to  relate  the  legend. 

It  was  one  of  those  delightful  June  mornings  that 
made  outdoor  life  so  comfortable  that  nothing  but  press- 
ing business  kept  any  one  from  enjoying  the  sunhine 
and  bracing  atmosphere. 

Old  Campo  had  crawled  out  of  his  tepee  and  was 
seated  upon  a  buffalo  robe  with  his  back  against  a  pecan 
tree.  The  old  warrior  was  enjoying  his  pipe,  and 
seemed  to  gather  inspiration  from  the  wreaths  of  smoke 
that  curled  and  eddied  above  his  head.  No  doubt  the 
genial  warmth  of  the  almost  perfect  day  awakened  the 
dormant  faculties  of  his  brain  and  set  in  motion  a  train 
of  thought,  carrying  him  back  to  the  time  when  he  was 
the  great  Medicine  Man  of  the  tribe,  and  the  brave  Chief 
Placido  led  the  warriors  to  victory. 

The  old  man  was  day-dreaming  and  happily  disposed 
to  talk  about  the  past.  After  relating  a  few  reminis- 
cences of  the  pale  face  chiefs  who  commanded  at  Forts 


LEGEND  OF  TONKAWA  INDIANS  55 

Belknap  and  Phantom  Hill,  his  mind  started  out  on  the 
trail  of  memory,  and  his  voice  grew  strong  and  eyes 
bright,  as  he  related  the  following  legend: 

"Many,  many  moons  have  come  and  gone  since  there 
was  born  in  the  wigwam  of  the  Great  Chief  a  boy  pa- 
poose. They  called  him  Placido,  and  he  grew  up  to  be 
a  mighty  hunter  and  led  the  young  braves  when  they 
chased  the  wild  horse  and  the  buffalo  on  the  Llano  Esta- 
cado. 

"And,  when  the  winter's  snow  like  a  great  white  blan- 
ket covered  the  valleys  and  mountains  of  Tejas,  my  peo- 
ple crossed  the  Rio  Grande  and  followed  where  the  birds 
took  their  flight  on  their  way  to  the  warm  valleys  and 
bright  sun  spots  in  Mejico.  But  the  young  Chief  Pla- 
cido was  not  content  to  march  with  the  tribe  on  the 
trail  day  after  day,  and  one  morning  dashed  away  at  the 
head  of  his  braves  into  the  Sierra  Madre  mountains, 
where  the  black  bear  and  cougars  made  their  dens.  And 
with  their  long  spears  and  bows  and  arrows  killed  many, 
and  returned  with  bear  meat  and  skins  to  decorate  the 
tepees. 

"The  Tonkawas  were  like  the  leaves  in  autumn ;  their 
squaws  beautiful  and  papooses  many;  their  ponies  swift 
as  the  wind  and  their  spears  long.  When  they  went 
forth  on  the  warpath  the  braves  took  many  scalps  to 
celebrate  their  victories.  No  single  tribe  dared  to  meet 
them  in  battle.  And  my  people  became  a  proud  people ; 
they  determined  to  conquer  the  Comanches  and  drive 
them  out  of  Tejas. 

"But  the  Comanches  were  brave  and  cunning;  always 
fight  the  small  bands  of  the  Tonkawas,  but  run  away 
when  the  Big  Chief  and  his  braves  come  in  sight.  Then 
my  people  say  that  the  Yaquis  have  many  ponies  and 
heap  rich,  and  the  chief  led  them  down  into  the  valleys 


56        THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

among  mountains  where  the  Yaquis  live ;  fight  a  big  bat- 
tle, kill  many  braves,  carry  off  squaws,  ponies  and  cattle. 
Then  my  people  grow  more  proud  and  return  to  Tejas 
and  drive  the  Kickapoos  into  the  mountains  of  the  West. 
They  fought  the  Lapans  and  the  Apaches  until  they 
crossed  into  the  territory. 

"But  the  Great  Spirit  was  not  pleased  with  my  people. 

"By  and  by  he  whispered  vengeance  into  the  ear  of  the 
Comanches,  and  they  sent  swift  messengers  down  to 
the  council  fires  of  the  Yaquis,  and  they  called  a  pow- 
wow. And  the  Yaquis  say,  'Yes,  the  Tonkawas  are 
the  enemy  of  all  the  other  tribes  in  Tejas  and  Mejico.' 
Then  the  council  of  chiefs  agree  to  send  many  warriors 
to  help  the  allied  tribes  to  fight  the  Tonkawas  and  sweep 
them  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

"And  the  Comanche  messenger  said,  'That  is  very 
good,  and  I  will  return  to  my  chief,  tell  him  to  call  a 
great  council  meeting  and  invite  the  Apaches,  the  Kio- 
was,  the  Kickapoos  and  the  Lapans  to  come  to  one  great 
powwow.'  Then  for  three  moons  the  swift  messengers 
of  the  Comanches  like  wings  of  the  wind  went  from  tribe 
to  tribe,  until  the  chiefs  all  agreed  to  meet  in  the  valley 
of  the  upper  Rio  Grande,  where  the  Guadalupe  moun- 
tains lift  their  heads  high  above  the  plains. 

"But  the  Tonkawas  no  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  Great 
Spirit  that  talks  in  the  lightning  and  thunder.  Chief 
Placido  and  the  war  chiefs  no  hear  the  soft  foot  of  the 
Comanche  messenger,  as  he  carried  the  pledges  of  ven- 
geance among  the  enemies  of  my  people. 

"The  Tonkawas  loved  to  hunt  and  fish  and  to  feast ;  to 
make  merry  and  enjoy  the  good  things  of  life.  Their 
papooses  played  all  day  under  the  pecan  trees  where  the 
clear  water  reflected  their  smiling  faces.  The  young 
squaws  gathered  the  wild  flowers  on  the  prairies  to  weave 


'J3lP>  •  •\Mi^.^^^xfV'%f--:.- 

Ap.***.!-     SVyS.,.  -v* 


INDIAN  COURIER.      (Page  56.) 


LEGEND   OF  TONKAWA   INDIANS  59 

them  into  garlands  for  their  hair.  The  old  squaws  sat 
near  the  wigwams  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  and  made 
moccasins  for  the  warriors.  The  old  men  of  the  tribe 
told  of  the  mighty  deeds  when  they  used  to  hunt  and 
fight.  All  day  long  the  young  braves  followed  the  eagle 
feathers  of  Chief  Placido  as  he  chased  the  wild  horses 
up  the  Great  Divide  to  the  pass  in  the  mountains,  where 
the  cedar  trees  hang  over  the  high  rocks,  and  far  away 
on  the  other  side  the  cottonwoods  grow  by  the  winding 
river.  Then  when  the  great  light  of  day  was  painting 
the  western  sky  in  many  colors,  the  Chief  turned  the- 
head  of  his  pony  toward  the  camp,  and  led  his  braves 
back  over  the  trail  as  the  evening  shadows  lengthened, 
and  the  stars  came  out  one  by  one  from  the  depth  of  blue 
to  listen  to  the  mocking  birds  singing  in  the  tree-tops, 
as  they  rode  home  from  the  chase.  Then  the  warriors 
feasted  on  roast  buffalo  meat  and  smoked  their  pipes 
around  the  fire,  while  the  young  boys  and  maidens  played 
at  making  war,  and  told  how  they  would  kill  and  scalp 
all  the  bad  Indians  that  dared  to  dispute  the  Tonkawas' 
right  to  hunt  and  fish  in  Tejas. 

"But  very  soon  the  season  was  growing  old  and  the 
winter  not  far  away,  and  Placido  called  a  council  of  his 
wise  men  who  smoked  and  talked  many  hours,  and  when 
they  arose  to  go  to  their  tepees,  Placido  say  it  will  be 
a  cold  winter  and  the  Tonkawas  must  have  heap  big 
store  of  dried  buffalo  meat  before  they  cross  the  Rio 
Grande  and  go  down  into  the  land  where  the  sun  shines 
and  the  water  never  freezes. 

"So  one  bright  morning  when  the  dew  was  sparkling 
on  the  grass  my  people  folded  up  their  tepees,  packed 
their  ponies  and  marched  away  with  their  heads  turned 
toward  the  northwest,  where  many  thousand  buffalo  eat 
the  grass  and  grow  fat  on  the  Llano  Estacado,  near  the 
Palo  Duro  Canyon. 


60  THE  QUIRT   AND  THE  SPUR 

"Two  moons  had  come  and  gone  when  my  people  came 
in  sight  of  the  great  canyon  of  the  north,  where  the 
plains  drop  down  into  the  valley  and  the  water  runs 
through  the  big  rocks. 

"Within  a  sheltered  cove  near  the  canyon's  walls  my 
people  camped.  The  braves  went  forth  and  killed  many 
buffalo  and  the  squaws  cut  the  meat  into  long  strips 
and  hung  it  on  poles  to  dry.  But  now  the  hosts  of 
Diablo  hovered  over  the  canyon,  waiting  to  devour  the 
Tonkawa  tribe.  And  the  Great  Spirit  hid  his  face  and 
would  not  warn  them,  and  my  people  marched  down  into 
the  peaceful  valley  with  light  hearts,  glad  to  come  to  the 
end  of  their  long  journey. 

"Here  they  hoped  to  rest,  sleep  and  be  happy.  They 
had  seen  no  signs  of  an  enemy  and  no  cause  to  fear  one. 
The  Chief  and  all  his  warriors  were  lulled  into  lazy 
security  and  dreamed  not  of  the  avenger  that  hid  in  the 
sand  hills  beyond  the  canyon  walls,  waiting  until  the 
night  bird  sang  to  the  moon. 

"The  sun  had  traveled  his  path  across  the  heavens 
and  was  sending  his  last  golden  rays  to  paint  the  tops 
of  the  mountains.  One  by  one  the  warriors  came  strag- 
gling through  the  narrow  opening  at  the  top  of  the 
canyon,  and  made  their  way  to  the  camp  in  the  valley 
below. 

"With  no  thought  of  danger  hanging  over  the  edge  of 
the  canyon  walls,  the  whole  tribe  began  preparations  for 
the  night.  Ponies  were  unpacked,  tepees  set  up  and 
camp  fires  lighted. 

"One  by  one  the  stars  came  forth,  and  the  dying  moon 
lifted  her  head  above  the  horizon,  lingered  a  while,  then 
dropped  out  of  sight. 

"The  fatigue  of  the  last  days  of  the  journey  had  its 
effect,  and  the  god  of  sleep  touched  the  eyelids  of  the 


LEGEND   OF  TONKAWA   INDIANS  61 

warriors,  squaws  and  papooses,  and  the  whole  camp  was 
soon  lost  in  that  mysterious  land  of  dreams. 

"Not  a  single  watchman  was  placed  on  guard  that 
night,  and  the  Tonkawa  camp  was  left  to  the  vengeance 
of  the  foe. 

"The  blue  blaze  of  the  dying  fires  flickered  as  the  star- 
lit darkness  settled  o'er  the  whole  scene.  The  Tonkawas 
were  sleeping — the  allied  foe  was  awake. 

"It  was  past  midnight  when  ghostly  figures  began  to 
appear  at  the  mouth  of  the  pass  that  led  to  the  valley 
below.  One — three — ten — twenty — one  hundred — five 
hundred — one  thousand  silent  warriors,  followed  by  as 
many  more,  stole  quietly  down  through  the  opening  in 
the  canyon  wall,  completely  shutting  off  all  avenues  of 
escape.  Up  where  the  sky  line  defined  the  canyon  wall 
hundreds  of  feathered  heads  could  be  seen  taking  position 
where  they  could  send  a  shower  of  arrows  into  the  Ton- 
kawa camp. 

"Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night,  and  my 
people  slumbered  on,  unconscious  of  the  dreadful  awak- 
ening in  the  dawning  of  a  new  day. 

"The  hours  dragged  on  and  the  gray  streaks  began 
to  appear  in  the  East,  broadening  each  moment  as  the 
sun  approached  the  horizon. 

"Objects  began  to  be  seen,  at  first  indistinctly,  then 
assuming  shape  until  the  whole  camp  came  into  view. 

"A  Tonkawa  warrior  arose  unsteadily  from  his  blan- 
kets and  yawned,  as  he  tried  to  shake  off  the  stupor  of 
sleep.  He  looked  out  over  the  silent  camp,  then  his  gaze 
wandered  to  the  steep  trail  down  the  canyon  wall — 
something  unnatural  appeared  in  the  opening.  He  rubbed 
his  eyes,  then  shaded  them  with  his  hand.  He  saw  a  mass 
of  feathered  heads  and  bristling  spears.  He  looked  to 
the  top  of  the  steep  walls — was  he  dreaming  ?  No,  there 


62  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

was  a  fringe  of  feathers  behind  a  row  of  drawn  bows — 
the  shadow  of  death  hung  o'er  the  Tonkawa  camp. 

"As  he  realized  the  truth  the  warrior  threw  his  head 
back  and  uttered  the  well-known  warwhoop  of  his  tribe. 

"This  proved  to  be  the  signal  for  the  attack  from  the 
allied  foe. 

"A  flight  of  arrows  came  from  the  canyon  walls,  and 
many  a  sleeping  warrior  and  his  squaw  were  pierced 
through  before  they  could  respond  to  the  brave's  war- 
whoop. 

"Surprise  turned  the  camp  into  confusion,  and  hun- 
dreds were  killed  before  Chief  Placido  could  rally  a 
band  of  faithful  warriors. 

"The  battle  of  extermination  was  being  fought,  and 
nothing  could  save  my  people. 

"Many  times  the  brave  Placido  led  his  warriors  in  a 
dashing  charge  against  the  massed  enemy  at  the  foot  of 
the  pass,  but  they  were  repulsed  with  great  slaughter. 
In  the  meantime  the  never-ceasing  shower  of  arrows 
from  the  canyon's  wall  was  covering  the  ground  with 
the  dead  and  wounded. 

"The  brave  Placido  saw  his  people  hopelessly  defeated 
and  being  slaughtered  without  mercy.  He  knew  no 
quarter  would  be  shown.  His  enemies  had  entrapped 
him.  The  last  hope  of  defending  them  was  gone.  He 
called  a  hasty  council  and  selected  30x5  of  his  bravest 
warriors  to  make  the  last  dash  for  freedom.  He  also 
selected  100  squaws  and  placed  them  in  the  center  of  the 
little  band.  Then  putting  his  little  son,  Peta  Nocona, 
on  his  war  horse  behind  him,  he  formed  his  band  in  the 
shape  of  a  wedge,  and  charged  down  the  canyon  like  a 
thunderbolt.  The  force  of  the  charge  drove  the  wedge- 
shaped  band  through  the  enemy's  lines,  and  Placido,  200 
warriors  and  fifty  squaws  escaped  on  their  ponies  and  fled 


LEGEND   OF  TONKA WA   INDIANS  63 

across  the  plains  to  Blanco  canyon.  The  remainder  of 
the  tribe  was  slaughtered,  and  not  one  escaped  to  tell 
of  the  terrible  massacre." 

This  battle  ground  where  over  2,000  Tonkawas  were 
killed  was  what  might  be  termed  a  pocket  in  the  side  of 
the  Palo  Duro  canyon,  admirably  adapted  by  nature  for 
an  ambuscade. 

The  canyon  proper  is  a  large  chasm  nearly  100  miles 
long,  and  from  one-half  to  two  miles  wide.  The  preci- 
pices are,  in  many  places,  from  300  to  1,500  feet  deep. 
For  sixty  miles  there  is  only  one  crossing  for  wagons, 
and  this  proved  to  be  the  tragic  key  to  the  Tonkawa  bat- 
tle of  extermination. 

A  stranger  can  travel  over  that  treeless  stretch  of  the 
Staked  Plains,  among  the  sand  hills  and  soft  buffalo  grass 
and  never  suspect  the  existence  of  this  great  canyon. 
The  break  would  not  be  seen  until  his  horses  were  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  edge.  Then  when  he  looked  over  he 
would  view  a  most  wonderful  scene.  He  would  see  be- 
tween the  walls,  a  river,  a  meadow  and  a  pine  forest  in 
this  wonderland. 

No  doubt  some  writers  of  Texas  history  have  mixed 
the  data  of  the  slaughter  of  the  Tonkawas  in  Palo  Duro 
canyon  with  the  massacre  of  the  Apaches  by  the  Pueblos 
in  a  cavern  in  the  Waco  mountains. 

After  the  slaughter  of  the  Tonkawas  in  Palo  Duro 
canyon,  Placido  and  his  little  band  fled  to  the  government 
posts  for  protection,  and  thereafter  remained  true  to  the 
white  settlers.  In  the  year  1876,  when  Kentuck  and  his 
companions  arrived  at  Fort  Griffin,  the  tribe  numbered 
about  150,  all  told.  All  the  young  men  under  the  command 
of  Chief  Johnson  were  employed  by  the  government  as 
scouts.  No  expedition  sent  out  after  the  hostile  Co- 
manches  was  complete  without  Chief  Johnson  and  his 


64  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

scouts.  The  remainder  of  the  tribe,  made  up  of  the 
old  men  and  the  squaws,  camped  under  the  protecting 
guns  of  the  fort.  As  a  rule,  the  members  of  the  tribe 
were  lousy  and  filthy,  content  to  beg  and  steal.  The  men 
drank  fire  water  when  they  could  get  it,  and  the  squaws 
were  low  down  in  the  moral  scale.  Of  course,  there  were 
a  few  individual  exceptions,  and  two  were  Jenne  and 
Louita,  the  granddaughters  of  the  old  Chief  Placido. 

Jenne  was  a  comely  squaw,  and  always  went  decked 
out  in  all  the  Indian  finery  appropriate  to  her  position 
as  belle  of  the  tribe. 

There  also  lived  in  Fort  Griffin  a  romantic  youth 
named  John  Black,  a  druggist's  clerk,  who  was  not  only 
romantic  by  nature,  but  had  read  ten-cent  novels  until 
his  mind  was  fertile  ground  for  the  cultivation  of  wild 
ideas.  And  the  first  seed  that  found  lodgment  in  his 
brain  was  an  infatuation  for  the  squaw  Jenne. 

After  a  brief  courtship  of  two  or  three  weeks  young 
Black  and  Jenne  were  married  according  to  the  Indian 
rites,  and  Black  degenerated  into  a  blanket  Indian,  drop- 
ping as  low  in  the  scale  of  humanity  as  possible,  even  to 
the  extent  of  being  shunned  by  the  tribe. 

When  the  government  post  was  abandoned  at  Fort 
Griffin  in  the  year  of  1883,  the  Tonkawas  were  removed 
to  a  reservation  in  the  Indian  Territory,  Black  and  Jenne 
going  with  them,  the  family  having  increased  by  the  birth 
of  three  children. 

The  Tonkawas,  like  all  Indians,  depended  upon  signs 
and  omens  to  direct  them  in  all  the  affairs  of  life,  attrib- 
uting success  and  defeat  to  the  manifestations  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  in  the  changes  of  the  elements  and  actions 
of  animals.  And,  the  writer  believes,  that  the  greatest 
mistake  the  government  ever  made  in  its  Indian  policy 
was,  to  consider  the  traditions,  beliefs  and  customs  of 


JOHN  BLACK  AND  JENNE,    (Page  64.) 


LEGEND   OF  TONKAWA  INDIANS  67 

the  North  American  Indian  of  too  little  consequence. 
Those  who  have  come  in  contact  with  our  red  brother 
know  that  he  is  a  zealot  in  belief  and  a  fanatic  in  prac- 
tice. Living  close  to  nature,  and  relying  upon  the  signs, 
omens  and  warnings  of  the  sky,  sea  and  forest,  he  was 
intensely  emotional  and  could  be  won  or  offended  by  what 
we  consider  trivial  matters. 

A  convincing  illustration  of  this  trait  of  the  Indian 
character  was  given  the  first  week  in  June,  1876,  when 
the  Tonkawas  broke  up  their  camp  near  the  crossing  in 
the  valley  of  the  Clear  Fork  and  moved  to  the  table  land 
on  the  high  rocky  hills.  White  men  noticing  the  change 
of  base,  asked  Old  Charley  why  the  Tonks  moved. 

His  reply  was  characteristic :  "Heap  big  water  coming ; 
cover  all  the  valley  for  many  miles ;  Indian  no  like  heap 
big  water;  Indian  move." 

The  white  man  laughed  and  the  Indian  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  but  the  flood  came  on  the  26th  day  of  the 
month,  and  all  the  valleys  of  that  section  became  roaring 
torrents,  sweeping  the  debris  of  half  a  century  down 
the  river  toward  the  sea. 

The  water  ran  four  feet  deep  through  the  streets  of 
the  Flat  and  washed  the  base  of  Government  Hill,  melt- 
ing down  adobe  houses  and  carrying  off  shanties  along 
the  banks  of  Collin's  creek. 

So  sudden  was  the  rise  that  a  great  wall  of  water  came 
sweeping  around  the  bend,  north  of  the  fort  and  engulfed 
a  six-mule  team,  drowning  the  driver  and  General  Burn's 
son,  together  with  all  the  mules  harnessed  to  the  wagon. 

Many  people,  forced  to  leave  their  houses,  climbed 
trees,  and  in  these  uncomfortable  positions  were  com- 
pelled to  remain  through  a  dark,  stormy  night. 

Never  before  or  since,  within  the  knowledge  of  white 
men,  has  so  great  a  flood  of  water  visited  the  Fort  Griffin 
country. 


68  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

It  was  several  weeks  before  the  sun  and  wind  dried 
the  valleys  sufficient  to  permit  the  Tonkawas  to  return 
to  the  site  of  their  village  and  pitch  their  tepees. 

When  the  country  was  once  more  in  its  normal  condi- 
tions, and  all  the  avenues  of  business  prospering,  the 
forecast  of  Old  Charley  was  remembered,  and  Kentuck 
asked  him  how  he  knew  that  "heap  big  water"  was 
coming. 

The  old  warrior  replied  that  when  the  prairie  dogs 
ran  from  hole  to  hole  barking,  and  all  came  out  and 
scampered  away  to  the  hills,  and  the  rabbits  and  snakes 
deserted  their  holes  and  vamoosed,  that  it  was  time  for 
the  Indians  to  pull  up  their  tepees  and  move  to  higher 
ground. 

There  are  a  few  white  men,  who  live  in  the  wilds  close 
to  nature,  who  can  determine  important  issues,  and  even 
shape  their  own  destinies,  by  watching  the  movements  of 
the  lower  animals.  Especially  was  this  true  in  the  early 
history  of  mankind,  before  philosophers  and  scientists  dis- 
credited nature. 

And  may  it  not  be  that  while  we  have  gained  much,  we 
have  lost  many  a  simple  truth  that  was  a  surer  guide  to 
health  and  happiness  than  arguments  of  learned  profes- 
sors? 


CHAPTER   IV 


THE  "  WILD  AND  WOOLLY  "  CITIZENS 

Low  down  cussedness,  adulterated  with  the  essence  of  the  devil, 
Brings  all  "wild  and  woolly"  citizens  to  the  same  low  down  level. 

Bill  Hitson  was  cinching  up  his  pony  one  morning  in 
front  of  the  old  Adobe  saloon,  preparatory  to  returning 
to  his  ranch  in  Palo  Pinto  county. 

"I'll  be  durned  if  I  can  sabe  where  all  these  galoots 
come  from  who  hang  around  the  Flat." 

Though  his  remark  was  more  forcible  than  elegant,  he 
voiced  a  condition  of  mystery  hard  to  solve. 

No  one  knew,  and  few  cared  to  know,  the  antecedents 
of  the  hundred  or  more  worthless  characters  around  the 
saloons  and  dance  halls,  that  seemed  to  be  nothing  more 
than  human  driftwood.  Their  mission  in  life  seemed  to 
be  confined  to  begging  and  stealing,  when  not  employed 
by  bolder  rascals. 

But  it  was  not  the  sneaking  hangers-on  to  the  ragged 
edge  that  Hitson  referred  to.  His  remarks  designated 
the  bold,  dashing,  reckless  gambler,  and  the  all-around 
sportsman  who  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  dissipation, 
lived  like  a  lord  and  generally  died  with  his  boots  on. 

This  class  was  known  as  the  "wild  and  woolly"  deni- 
zens of  the  Flat,  and  in  company  with  reckless  cow 
punchers  could  raise  more  hell  in  a  single  night  than 
the  sheriff  and  the  coroner  were  able  to  attend  to  the 
next  day. 

The  prodigal  liberality  of  these  men  made  them  gen- 
eral favorites,  especially  among  the  tradesmen,  saloon- 

69 


70  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

men  and  keepers  of  resorts.  And  they  generally  had 
free  right-of-way,  except  when  they  ran  counter  to  the 
reckless  cow  punchers,  who  liked  nothing  better  than  a 
shooting  bee  when  they  were  loaded  with  bad  whisky. 

Each  one  of  these  local  characters  had  a  paramour 
as  wild  and  reckless  as  her  consort,  ready  and  willing  to 
aid  him  in  any  desperate  scheme  that  promised  excite- 
ment and  profit. 

To  better  understand  the  situation  that  confronted 
Kentuck  when  he  made  his  advent  on  the  frontier  and 
took  up  his  temporary  abode  in  the  Flat,  it  will  be  nec- 
essary to  give  the  readers  a  brief  sketch  of  a  few  notori- 
ous characters  who  lived  and  flourished  off  the  proceeds 
of  their  wits,  and  boasted  of  their  skill  in  the  art  of  de- 
ception. The  reckless  boldness  of  these  individuals 
brought  them  under  discussion,  even  among  the  denizens 
of  the  Flat,  who  considered  such  eccentricities  as  drink- 
ing to  excess,  cussing  with  vehemence  and  shooting  on 
slight  provocation,  personal  privileges  not  subject  to 
criticism. 

But  notwithstanding  this  general  acceptation  of  per- 
sonal freedom,  there  were  some  who  were  glaring  ex- 
ceptions, transcending  all  right  granted  by  common  con- 
sent 

LOTTIE  DENO 

Prominent  among  the  wild,  dare-devil,  reckless  char- 
acters who  frequented  the  resorts  in  the  Flat,  was  a  fe- 
male monstrosity  known  by  the  name  of  Lottie  Deno. 
Lottie  exhibited  all  the  traits  of"  a  refined,  educated  wom- 
an, who  had  been  nurtured  in  high  society  and  was  a 
gentlewoman  by  birth,  yet  an  associate  member  of  the 
gambling  fraternity,  who,  night  after  night,  assembled 
in  the  rooms  over  a  saloon  and  played  for  high  stakes. 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  71 

Otherwise,  Lottie  held  herself  aloof  from  the  revel  and 
debauchery  that  surrounded  her. 

This  woman  was  one  of  Fort  Griffin's  mysteries.  She 
arrived  one  evening  on  the  Jacksboro  stage,  sitting  upon 
the  driver's  seat  beside  Dick  Wheeler.  And  from  the 
day  of  her  advent  to  the  time  of  her  departure  three 
years  later,  she  hid  her  identity  in  the  seclusion  of  a  little 
shanty  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  refusing  to  receive 
any  visitors,  male  or  female,  and  only  appearing  in  pub- 
lic when  she  desired  to  enter  the  gambling  rooms. 

Strange  stories  were  told  about  Lottie  by  those  who 
knew  the  least,  but  some  credence  attached  to  the  report 
that  this  strange  woman  lived  a  dual  life  of  a  saint  in 
the  East  and  a  desperate  character  in  the  West. 

It  was  said  that  money  was  sent  to  aid  an  invalid 
mother  in  her  New  England  home  and  to  pay  the  tuition 
of  a  sister  at  a  fashionable  boarding  school,  who  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  tainted. 

Lottie  Deno  was  an  attractive,  medium-sized  woman, 
with  an  abundance  of  dark,  red  hair  and  black,  sparkling 
eyes.  She  always  appeared  well  dressed  and  walked  with 
the  air  of  a  perfect  lady. 

And,  strange  to  relate,  she  was  present  during  many  a 
rough  house,  saw  the  flash  of  the  deadly  six-shooters  and 
heard  the  oaths  of  the  men  in  desperate  conflict,  but  it 
did  not  drive  her  from  the  scene,  though  when  the  smoke 
cleared  away  there  were  dead  men  lying  in  pools  of  bloocf 
near  the  card  tables. 

Kentuck  was  told  that  there  was  a  shooting  affray  over 
Wilson  &  Matthews'  saloon  one  October  night. 

The  gambling  hall  was  crowded  with  the  local  sports, 
who  were  attracted  by  the  announcement  of  a  poker  game 
between  "Monte  Bill,"  the  Arizona  sharp,  and  "Smoky 
Joe,"  the  Texas  expert. 


72  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Lottie  occupied  a  seat  at  a  near-by  table,  playing  in  a 
game  with  a  fifty-dollar  limit. 

All  interest  centered  around  the  game  where  "Monta 
Bill"  and  "Smoky  Joe"  were  pitted  against  each  other. 
Five  hundred  dollars  was  in  the  pot  and  the  other  play- 
ers dropped  out.  "Monta"  challenged  "Smoky"  to  raise 
the  limit.  "Smoky"  agreed  and  bet  his  last  dollar  on  the 
results. 

"Monta"  called  his  hand  and  laid  down  three  aces  and 
a  pair  of  queens. 

"Smoky"  dropped  his  hand  to  the  handle  of  his  six- 
shooter  and  yelled,  "Bunkoed  by  a  sneaking  coyote  from 
the  'Bad  Lands,'  who  rings  in  a  'cold  deck'  and  marked 
cards  when  he  plays  with  a  gentleman !  Take  that  pot, 
John,"  he  yelled  to  the  negro  porter. 

"No,  you  can't  play  that  game  of  'bluff'  on  me,"  shouted 
"Monta"  in  defiance,  as  he  jerked  his  gun  from  its  scab- 
bard. 

Both  guns  flashed  at  the  same  time,  and  the  crowd 
rushed  for  the  stairway. 

Lottie  pushed  back  from  the  table  and  ran  to  the  cor- 
ner of  the  room  out  of  range  of  the  bullets,  where  she 
remained  until  the  shooting  was  over,  and  was  the  first 
to  greet  the  sheriff  when  he  entered,  and  found  both  men 
stretched  upon  the  floor  in  pools  of  blood. 

"Why  didn't  you  'vamoose'  when  they  pulled  their 
'barkers,'  Lottie?" 

"Oh,  it  was  too  late,  sheriff;  and  I  was  safe  out  of 
range  in  the  corner." 

"Well,  you  have  your  nerve  on,  all  right,  old  girl.  I 
don't  believe  I  would  have  cared  to  take  my  chances  in 
that  scrimmage." 

"Perhaps  not,  sheriff,  but  you  are  not  a  desperate  wom- 
an." 


"WILD   AND   WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  73 

"That's  true,  but  you  had  better  clear  out  now,  before 
the  coroner  comes  to  view  these  'stiffs'." 

"All  right,  sheriff;  so  long-;  I'm  sleepy."  And  this 
remarkable  woman  left  the  gambling  hall  for  her  lonely 
shack  in  the  outskirts  of  the  Flat. 

Subsequent  events  gave  some  color  to  a  rumor  that 
Lottie  had  known  a  blase  character  by  name  of  Johnny 
Golden,  previous  to  her  arrival  in  the  Flat,  but  this  rumor 
could  not  be  traced  to  any  reliable  source.  But  one 
day  Marshal  Bill  Gilson  and  Deputy  Sheriff  Jim  Draper 
arrested  Johnny  Golden  for  an  infraction  of  the  law.  On 
their  way  to  the  guard  house,  where  they  intended  to 
confine  him  over  night,  the  officers  claim  that  Golden's 
pal  tried  to  rescue  him  and  a  fight  took  place,  but  the 
only  visible  evidence  was  the  dead  body  of  Golden  found 
beside  the  trail  leading  to  the  fort. 

Whether  there  existed  a  bond  of  friendship  between 
Johnny  Golden  and  Lottie  Deno  will  never  be  known,  but 
when  informed  of  the  affair,  if  was  said  that  Lottie  lost 
her  nerve  and  came  near  fainting.  And  the  gossips 
around  the  saloons  and  dance  halls  claimed  that  if  she 
was  not  his  wife,  there  was  some  kind  of  a  relationship. 

Letters  found  on  Golden  proved  him  to  be  the  scion  of 
a  rich  Boston  family,  and  a  dissolute  castaway. 

Shortly  after  this  occurrence  Lottie  quit  frequenting 
the  gambling  rooms  and  was  rarely  seen  in  public,  having 
all  her  necessary  supplies  sent  to  her  shanty. 

It  was  about  a  month  later  when  the  eastbound  stage 
drove  to  her  shanty  and  this  mysterious  woman  de- 
parted, never  more  to  return. 

Her  rent  having  been  paid  in  advance,  no  one  felt  at 
liberty  to  open  the  shanty  and  investigate  until  Sheriff 
Cruger  arrived  from  the  county  seat  at  Albany. 

But  when  the  sheriff  received  the  key  from  George 


74  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Matthews  and  opened  the  door,  he  and  the  crowd  that 
followed  from  curiosity  beheld  a  richly  appointed  bed- 
room and  a  fireplace  intact.  On  examination  a  note  was 
found  pinned  to  the  bedclothes  with  these  words:  "Sell 
this  outfit  and  give  the  money  to  some  one  in  need  of 
assistance." 

There  was  no  telltale  scrap  of  information  among  the 
articles  that  she  abandoned  to  throw  any  light  on  the 
past  career  or  future  of  this  remarkable  woman. 

HURRICANE  BILL 

Hurricane  Bill  was  as  slick  a  rascal  as  ever  escaped 
justice.  He  came  to  the  fort  with  a  detachment  of  gov- 
ernment troops  from  Arizona,  in  the  fall  of  1875.  He 
had  been  employed  in  the  northwest  territories  by  Uncle 
Sam  as  an  Indian  scout.  Hurricane  was  one  of  the 
high  rollers,  traveling  all  the  gaits  in  the  whirlwind  of 
crime  so  fast  and  furious  that  he  was  given  the  sobriquet 
of  "Hurricane." 

He  played  the  winning  hand  in  a  game  with  cards, 
whether  he  held  the  trumps  or  was  compelled  to  run  a 
bluff  with  his  six-shooter  and  scoop  in  the  stakes  without 
showing  his  hand. 

Bill  and  his  paramour,  Hurricane  Minnie,  gave  the  offi- 
cers no  end  of  trouble.  They  were  mixed  up  in  all  the 
questionable  affairs  that  even  frontier  license  would  not 
tolerate.  But  by  some  "hook  or  crook"  they  managed  to 
escape  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  though  by  the  "skin 
of  their  teeth,"  and  the  threats  of  their  victims. 

It  was  always  a  question  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
knew  Bill,  whether  he  was  a  brave  man  or  a  coward. 
Sometimes,  when  confronted  in  an  emergency,  he  showed 
the  "white  feather,"  but  when  acting  as  scout  in  an  In- 
dian country  he  led  the  advance  guard,  and  had  been 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  75 

known  to  fight  two  Indians  single-handed  until  the  sol- 
diers came  to  his  relief. 

Bill  possessed  some  of  the  traits  of  a  polar  bear,  inas- 
much as  he  was  always  in  motion,  and  continuously  bob- 
bing up  where  trouble  was  brewing. 

One  morning  Bill  went  into  the  Bee  Hive  saloon, 
owned  by  Mike  O'Brien  and  Pat  Casey.  The  firm  also 
ran  a  buffalo  hunting  outfit,  and  Mike  was  the  boss  hun- 
ter. 

When  Mike  visited  the  fort  he  helped  to  make  things 
lively  around  the  saloon.  For  some  reason  there  was 
bad  blood  between  Mike  and  Hurricane  Bill,  and  when 
one  or  both  were  loaded  with  bad  whisky  there  were  in- 
dications of  trouble. 

At  this  particular  time  Bill  was  laboring  under  a  top- 
heavy  cargo  as  he  entered  the  saloon,  and  Mike  was  far 
gone  in  his  cups  and  cursing  the  negro  porter. 

Conditions  were  ripe  for  an  open  rupture,  and  Bill 
supplied  the  cause  by  making  uncomplimentary  remarks 
about  the  Irish  and  "niggers." 

It  so  happened  that  neither  carried  a  six-shooter  at  the 
time,  and  it  was  necessary  to  secure  some  kind  of  a  weap- 
on before  hostilities  could  begin.  Realizing  the  situa- 
tion, both  men  rushed  to  procure  arms,  Bill  to  his  picket 
shanty  across  the  street,  and  Mike  into  the  back  room 
of  the  saloon  after  his  buffalo  gun.  He  returned  to  fire 
a  shot  at  Bill  as  the  latter  turned  the  corner  of  the  picket 
house. 

With  that  deliberation  born  of  familiarity  with  danger 
Mike  walked  to  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  seating  him- 
self in  the  dust,  began  to  systematically  pump  lead  into 
Bill's  shanty.  In  the  meantime,  Bill  got  busy  with  his 
Winchester  rifle,  returning  Mike's  fire  from  the  window. 
But  the  superior  penetrating  powers  of  the  buffalo  gun 


76  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

bored  holes  through  the  picket  house,  making  it  extreme- 
ly dangerous  for  Bill  and  Minnie  to  remain  inside,  much 
less  expose  themselves  a  target  for  Mike's  marksman- 
ship. Therefore,  to  keep  up  his  side  of  the  duel,  Bill 
was  compelled  to  follow  the  report  of  Mike's  gun  by 
raising  his  own  gun  at  arm's  length  above  his  head  and 
firing  out  of  the  window,  being  careful  not  to  expose  his 
body  in  the  act. 

While  the  denizens  of  the  Flat  were  watching  the  ex- 
change of  leaden  compliments,  a  wild  Irishman  named 
Bill  Campbell,  staggering  under  the  influence  of  liquor, 
came  from  the  saloon,  laden  with  a  bottle  of  whisky  and 
a  glass,  approached  Mike  and  said,  "Here,  me  boy,  take 
somethin'  to  stiddy  yez  nerve  and  be  after  holding  on  to 
yez  job  'til  the  blackguard  shakes  a  white  rag." 

Without  the  least  hesitation  Mike  laid  his  gun  down 
and  accepted  the  bottle  and  glass  and  poured  out  a  gen- 
erous portion,  while  Bill  continued  firing  from  his  win- 
dow. After  drinking  and  returning  the  bottle  and  glass, 
Mike  took  up  his  gun  and  resumed  the  bombardment. 

Finally,  after  shooting  away  all  of  his  cartridges,  Mike 
retired  to  the  saloon  in  disgust,  remarking  that  Hurricane 
was  a  white-livered  coward,  not  worth  the  ammunition 
that  it  would  take  to  kill  him. 

There  was  a  rollicking  time  in  Dick  Jones'  saloon  one 
night  when  Hurricane  Bill  was  making  a  gun  play. 
Some  one  passed  the  word  to  marshal  Bill  Gilson  and  he 
started  in  to  pinch  the  Hurricane  and  run  him  in. 

The  marshal  was  armed  with  a  sawed-off  shotgun 
mounted  on  a  pistol  handle.  The  gun  was  loaded  with 
buckshot  and  capable  of  deadly  execution  at  short  range. 
As  the  marshal  approached  the  door,  Bill  was  given  the 
tip  by  a  comrade  and  made  an  attempt  to  escape  that 
brought  him  in  collision  in  the  doorway  with  the  mar- 


"WILD  AND   WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  77 

shal.  Both  men  held  their  guns  in  their  hands,  and  in 
the  mixup  that  followed,  Bill's  pistol  was  discharged  so 
close  to  the  marshal's  face  that  the  flash  powder-burned 
his  eyes,  and  "Old  Betsey,"  the  marshal's  gun,  tore  a  big 
hole  in  the  ceiling  of  the  saloon.  Before  the  marshal 
could  recover,  Bill  escaped  and  joined  a  trail  outfit  camp 
over  night,  and  in  the  morning  started  for  the  buffalo 
range  with  Henry  Palm's  wagon  train,  where  he  remained 
six  months  before  returning  to  the  Flat. 

THE  CHIEF  OF  RED  MUD 

Any  man  who  lived  on  the  frontier  in  the  early  days 
will  tell  you  that  it  was  no  test  of  courage  to  be  com- 
pelled to  perform  stunts  under  duress,  and  that  "discre- 
tion is  the  better  part  of  valor"  when  the  other  fellow 
ha,s  the  drop  on  you.  Many  a  brave  man  was  forced  to 
abide  his  time,  that  he  might  get  even  with  a  desperado 
who  took  advantage  of  an  opportunity  to  play  the  bully. 

An  illustration  of  this  was  exemplified  on  one  occa- 
sion when  the  "Chief  of  Red  Mud,"  the  self-constituted 
leader  of  a  gang  of  cowardly  cut-throats  that  rendez- 
voused in  Blanco  canyon,  came  to  Griffin  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  making  good  his  boast  of  being  a  bad  man. 

After  taking  on  a  cargo  of  firewater  he  sailed  in  to 
capture  the  Flat.  At  the  time,  all  the  officers,  including 
the  marshal,  were  on  the  trail  of  a  band  of  horse  thieves, 
and  no  one  of  authority  was  in  town. 

Whether  the  chief  had  been  informed  of  the  situation 
and  took  advantage  of  it,  will  never  be  known,  but  cir- 
cumstances led  many  to  believe  that  he  did.  The  chief, 
not  content  with  the  usual  armament  of  a  six-shooter  and 
camp  knife,  carried  two  "455"  and  a  hawkbill  knife 
twelve  inches  long. 

When  he  emerged  from  the  Beehive  saloon  and  started 


78  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

up  Griffin  avenue,  his  appearance  was  enough  to  strike 
terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  uninitiated. 

He  evidently  had  "blood  in  his  eyes"  and  determined 
to  start  a  graveyard  of  his  own  and  furnish  the  corpses, 
and  his  actions  bore  out  his  threats. 

A  red  Mexican  sash  beneath  his  cartridge  belt  gave 
the  requisite  color  to  his  warlike  appearance,  and  he 
would  have  made  a  striking  figure  on  the  deck  of  a  pirate 
ship. 

"Coyotes,  hunt  your  holes!  The  biggest  wolf  on  the 
range  is  coming  down  the  trail !"  Bang !  bang !  bang ! 
and  the  bullets  from  his  "45"  whizzed  along  the  street. 

While  every  one  doubted  the  courage  of  this  bully, 
very  few  cared  to  dispute  his  assertion,  and  to  avoid  the 
stray  bullets  all  went  indoors  and  gave  him  a  clear  trail. 
But  in  his  attempt  to  make  good  he  was  not  satisfied 
to  parade  the  street,  but  concluded  to  capture  Charley 
Meyers'  saloon.  The  barkeeper  on  the  day  shift  was  one 
Jule  Hurvey,  an  ex-acrobat  and  all-around  circus  man. 
And  when  this  human  tornado  swooped  odwn  upon  him, 
Hurvey  grabbed  a  lasso  that  hung  on  a  peg  and  threw 
the  open  loop  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  door,  then 
stepped  aside,  holding  onto  the  other  end  of  the  rope, 
and  waited  the  onslaught.  John  Lewis,  the  negro  por- 
ter, ran  out  of  the  rear  door  as  the  Chief  charged  in  at 
the  front,  and  Hurvey  was  left  alone  to  face  the  situa- 
tion. And  subsequent  proceedings  showed  that  he  was 
equal  to  the  emergency. 

When  the  "wild  and  woolly"  entered  the  door  and 
stepped  into  the  loop,  Hurvey  pulled  the  lasso  taut  and 
Caught  the  Chief  around  both  legs,  causing  him  to  pitch 
forward  with  so  much  force  that  his  "455"  were  knocked 
from  his  grasp  and  fell  beyond  his  reach,  and  before  he 
could  recover  from  the  shock,  Hurvey  had  him  trussed 


"Had  him  trussed  up  like  a  chicken."    (Page  78.) 


"WILD   AND   WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  81 

up  like  a  chicken  prepared  for  market.  One  end  of  the 
lasso  was  thrust  through  a  ring  in  the  wall,  used  for 
swinging  a  hammock,  and  as  the  Chief  struggled  to  free 
himself,  Hurvey  pulled  on  the  lasso  until  the  victim  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  wall  feet  foremost.  In  the  meantime 
the  bold  "Chief  of  Red  Mud"  was  roaring  like  an  en- 
raged bull. 

Having  elevated  the  Chief  to  where  he  was  compelled 
to  keep  both  hands  on  the  floor  to  protect  his  head,  Hur- 
vey picked  up  the  "455"  and  began  the  juggling  feat  of 
throwing  them  in  the  air  and  catching  them  by  the  han- 
dles ready  for  action.  People  on  the  outside,  curious  to 
know  what  was  going  on,  began  to  arrive,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  the  Chief  and  Hurvey  had  a  large  audience. 

"Come  right  in,  gents,"  said  Hurvey;  "this  is  a  free 
exhibition,  circus  and  menagerie  all  under  one  canvas. 
Don't  go  too  close  to  the  animals,  especially  those  tied 
inside  the  ropes  and  outside  the  cages  to  give  them  exer- 
cise. Now  that  specimen  over  by  the  wall  is  a  hybrid ; 
half  wolf  and  half  hyena ;  was  captured  on  Red  Mud  in 
Blanco  canyon." 

"Oh,  no,  Hurvey ;  you  must  be  mistaken ;  it  looks  like 
a  Gila  monster,"  remarked  John  Hammond. 

"Ain't  he  a  'ring-tail  tooter,'  boys?  I've  seen  'em  up 
in  the  mountains  of  Montana,  where  they  grow  big  ones ; 
but  he's  a  jim-dandy,  and  no  mistake,"  said  Hurricane 
Bill. 

"The  way  he  pulls  that  rope  and  growls  he  must  be  a 
cougar,"  said  Lewis  Hill. 

"Oh,  that's  only  a  badger,"  declared  Dick  Jones. 
"Don't  you  see  the  way  he  shows  his  teeth  and  scratches 
with  his  claws?" 

"And  will  yez  be  after  telling  me  what  yez  feed  the 
monster  on,  Hurvey?"  inquired  Mike  O'Brien. 

6 


82        THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"A  tenderfoot  at  each  meal,"  replied  Hurvey. 

"Oh,  then,  bedad,  and  he  must  be  hungry  now,"  re- 
marked O'Brien. 

During  this  running  comment  the  Chief  kept  up  a 
continuous  flow  of  profanity,  and  looked  unutterable 
words  of  defiance  at  his  tormentors. 

But  the  physical  strain  proved  too  much  for  his  bra- 
vado, and  gradually  he  subsided  into  an  inert  mass  of 
humanity  and  was  forced  to  beg  for  mercy.  All  the  fight 
had  oozed  out  of  him  and  he  became  an  abject  coward, 
with  no  thought  but  escape  from  his  captor.  Sobered 
and  humiliated,  he  appealed  to  Hurvey's  sense  of  sympa- 
thy, and  with  the  remark  that  the  performance  was  over, 
he  loosened  the  lasso  and  the  Chief  arose  unsteadily  to 
his  feet. 

"Now,  if  you  are  not  satisfied  with  the  treatment, 
Chief,"  said  Hurvey,  "here  are  your  guns,  and  you  shall 
have  an  equal  chance  and  a  fair  fight." 

But  the  Chief  declined  the  courtesy  with  thanks  and 
left  the  Flat  and  took  the  trail  going  west. 

But  not  content  to  profit  by  his  humiliation  in  the  Flat, 
and,  no  doubt,  desiring  revenge  on  somebody  to  ease  the 
painful  remembrance,  he  decided  to  terrorize  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  little  town  of  Albany,  sixteen  miles  from 
the  fort  in  the  center  of  the  county. 

It  may  have  been  his  desire  to  redeem  himself  from 
the  charge  of  cowardice,  in  hope  of  retaining  his  prestige 
as  leader  of  the  gang  at  Red  Mud.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
after  a  night's  rest  he  arose  early  the  next  morning  and 
.proceeded  to  fill  up  on  "bug  juice."  It  was  not  long 
until  the  liquor  fired  his  brain  and  he  became  reckless 
and  defied  everything,  living  or  dead.  With  loud- 
mouthed vaporings  he  started  in  to  bulldoze  the  town, 
repeating  his  tactics  of  the  day  before  in  the  Flat,  and  as 


"WILD   AND   WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  83 

soon  as  all  the  doors  of  the  village  were  closed  and  the 
inhabitants  inside,  he  got  busy  in  the  work  of  intimida- 
tion, parading  the  streets  and  threatening  to  shoot  if  any- 
one stuck  their  head  out.  While  thus  engaged  a  jolly 
Irishman  named  Pat  Casey  drove  a  two-horse  wagon  into 
town  and  halted  on  the  public  square.  No  sooner  did  the 
Chief  spy  the  Irishman  than  he  charged  down  upon  him. 

"Say,  you  flannel  mouth,  tumble  out  of  that  old  ram- 
shackle wagon  and  dance  a  jig.  Be  lively,  now,  or  I'll 
punch  a  hole  through  your  shoe  leather,"  and  to  empha- 
size the  threat,  fired  a  shot  into  the  bed  of  the  wagon. 
But  instead  of  jumping  out  on  the  opposite  side  from  the 
Chief,  Pat  landed  directly  in  front  of  him,  and  before  the 
bad  man  could  realize  it  and  bring  his  guns  into  action, 
the  Irishman  dealt  him  a  blow  over  the  head  with  the 
pecan  handle  of  his  driving  whip,  and  the  Chief  tumbled 
over  in  a  heap.  Securing  his  guns  and  throwing  them 
into  the  wagon,  Pat  began  to  belabor  the  Chief  with  the 
lash  until  he  howled  with  pain.  But  the  Irishman  did 
not  let  up,  and  proceeded  to  give  him  a  cruel  thrashing, 
until  the  Chief  jumped  to  his  feet  and  began  to  run  away. 
Round  and  round  the  square  they  raced,  the  Chief  in 
the  lead  and  the  Irishman  a  close  second,  while  the  citi- 
zens came  out  of  their  houses  and  shouted  their  approval. 
But  the  Chief  soon  outdistanced  his  pursuer  and  took  to 
the  open  prairie.  And  the  last  seen  of  the  "Chief  of  Red 
Mud"  he  was  headed  for  the  McKinzie  trail,  two  miles 
distant. 

And  so  far  as  the  writer  knows,  the  "Chief  of  Red 
Mud"  never  figured  in  the  role  of  a  bad  man  again,  either 
in  Griffin  or  Albany,  though  he  was  heard  from  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Blanco  and  Yellow  House  canyons,  where  he  had 
a  gang  of  bullies  and  thieves,  who  annoyed  the  settlers 
and  ranchmen  by  rustling  cattle  and  stealing  horses. 


84  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

With  few  exceptions,  men  like  the  Chief  were  arrant 
cowards  when  confronted  by  brave  men  on  equal  foot- 
ing. They  always  took  the  "drop"  on  the  other  man  be- 
fore abusing  him. 

ED.  FORREST 

Ed.  Forrest  was  an  all-around  sport.  He  dressed  well 
and  loafed  in  the  dance  halls,  gambling  rooms  and  the 
saloons ;  played  billiards,  pool,  and  was  a  card  sharp ; 
always  had  a  pocket  full  of  money  and  was  generous  to  a 
fault  in  spending  it. 

He  dropped  into  the  Flat  one  day  without  previous  an- 
nouncement and  seemed  to  fit  into  the  mixed  society  like 
a  charter  member.  No  one  asked  him  any  questions  and 
he  volunteered  no  information  about  himself.  The  wom- 
en pronounced  him  good-looking  and  the  men  voted  him 
a  jolly  good  fellow. 

And  time  rolled  on  for  about  six  months,  when  marshal 
Dave  Barker  opened  his  mail  one  morning  and  was 
astonished  to  receive  a  warrant  from  a  sheriff  in  Louisi- 
ana, commanding  him  to  arrest  one  Dick  Millington,  alias 
Ed.  Forrest,  charged  with  forging  a  check  for  $5,000. 

The  letter  informed  the  marshal  that  the  sheriff  held 
requisition  papers  for  Forrest,  and  that  he  would  start  for 
Fort  Griffin  as  soon  as  he  was  informed  of  his  arrest. 

After  a  consultation  with  Justice  Steel,  Barker  pro- 
ceeded to  hunt  up  the  erstwhile  sport.  But  as  was  usual 
with  gents  of  his  cloth,  he  bunked  up  during  the  day  and 
prowled  at  night.  Therefore,  it  was  after  dark  before  he 
located  Ed.  When  he  did  find  him  he  was  engaged  in 
playing  a  game  of  billiards  with  a  butcher  named  Huff, 
in  Dick  Jones'  saloon. 

Entering  the  saloon  through  the  front  door,  Barker 
drew  his  gun  and  commanded : 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  85 

"Throw  up  your  hands,  Ed ;  I  want  you,  my  boy !" 

But  instead  of  obeying,  Forrest  pulled  his  own  gun, 
and  the  shooting  commenced. 

Whether  by  accident  or  design,  the  lights  went  out,  and 
the  duel  was  continued  in  the  dark,  each  firing  at  the 
flash  of  his  antagonist's  gun. 

Both  emptied  their  pistols  and  Forrest  exclaimed, 
"Shut  off  your  'barker,'  Dave ;  I'm  wounded  in  the  side." 

Lights  were  procured  and  Forrest  was  discovered  lying 
upon  the  floor  beside  the  table. 

"I'm  sorry,  Ed.,"  said  the  Marshal,  "but  you  should 
have  used  better  judgment  than  to  resist." 

"That's  the  way  it  turned  out,  Dave ;  but  it  is  the  first 
time  my  old  '45'  went  back  on  me — I  rarely  miss  what  I 
shoot  at." 

"And  from  the  marks  on  the  table,  you  would  not  have 
missed  this  time  if  I  had  not  ducked  below  the  rail  every 
time  that  I  fired  at  the  flash  of  your  gun.  But  say,  Ed., 
you  were  not  at  this  end  of  the  table,  where  Huff  was 
holding  his  cue  at  the  time  the  racket  commenced,  were 
you?" 

"No.    Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"Because  there  is  a  pool  of  blood  here." 

"Huff  must  have  been  wounded  in  the  fracas,  too," 
said  Dick  Jones,  holding  a  lighted  lamp  near  the  floor, 
"Better  hunt  him  up,  for  he  was  bleeding  like  a  stuck  pig 
when  he  went  out  the  door,  from  the  trail  he  left  behind." 

They  found  him  in  his  butcher  shop,  lying  across  his 
chopping  block.  A  stray  bullet  had  severed  an  artery 
in  his  leg,  and  he  died  from  the  loss  of  blood. 

Forrest  was  removed  to  the  Government  hospital  for 
treatment,  where  he  remained  until  his  wgund  had  suffi- 
ciently healed  to  permit  the  authorities  to  put  him  in 
jail,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  Louisiana  sheriff. 


86  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Several  months  after  his  return  to  Louisiana  he  was 
tried  in  the  courts  and  was  exonerated  from  the  charge 
of  forgery,  and  returned  to  his  old  haunts  in  the  Flat. 

But  though  mixed  up  in  several  shooting  scrapes  at 
various  times  in  his  subsequent  career,  he  escaped  being 
killed  or  wounded. 

SMOKY  JOE 

Joe  was  a  nondescript  of  mixed  blood,  dark  and 
swarthy,  and  was  given  the  sobriquet  of  "Smoky  Joe." 

He  followed  what  was  known  as  a  "capper"  around  the 
gambling  rooms;  led  the  unwary  cowboys  to  buck  up 
against  a  "brace  game"  by  pretending  to  win  large  sums 
from  the  dealer,  and  encourage  his  companion  to  bet. 

When  he  succeeded  in  roping  in  a  novice  he  received  a 
certain  per  cent,  of  the  winnings  taken  from  the  victim. 
Consequently,  Joe  was  looked  on  as  an  outlaw  by  those 
who  knew  his  occupation,  and  it  was  a  mystery  how  he 
kept  from  being  killed  before  he  was  hung. 

Joe  was  suspected  of  thievery,  though  never  caught 
with  the  goods  on  him.  But  like  the  pitcher  carried 
once  too  often  to  the  well,  Joe  was  broken  over  the 
wheel  of  fate. 

His  avarice  got  the  better  of  his  judgment  when  an  en- 
terprising Jew  pedler,  named  "Cheap  John,"  came  to 
the  Flat  one  day,  and  for  a  week  engaged  in  selling  his 
wares. 

When  the  Jew  departed,  driving  an  old  horse  to  a  di- 
lapidated hack,  he  was  supposed  to  possess  considerable 
money.  And  Joe,  believing  that  no  one  cared  for  the 
Jew,  claimed  that  the  pedler  borrowed  money  from  him 
and  never  paid  it  back,  and  he  started  out  to  overtake 
the  unfortunate  man  and  force  the  collection  of  his  myth- 
ical debt. 


"WILD   AND  WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  87 

The  next  day  Joe  returned,  and  some  one  detected 
that  he  was  wearing  the  Jew's  boots. 

When  confronted  with  the  accusation,  he  admitted 
that  there  had  been  trouble,  and  that  he  was  forced  to 
kill  the  Jew  in  self-defense,  justifying  his  appropriation 
of  the  boots  and  other  articles  found  in  his  possession, 
on  the  ground  that  if  he  had  not  taken  them  some  unprin- 
cipled person  would  have  stolen  them. 

But  Smoky  Joe  did  not  reckon  with  the  temperament 
of  the  denizens  of  the  Flat  on  this  occasion,  and  a  select 
crowd  of  masked  men  visited  his  shack  about  the  hour 
of  midnight  and  invited  him  to  take  a  walk  down  the 
avenue  to  the  Clear  Fork  bottom,  where  the  limbs  of  the 
trees  seemed  to  grow  especially  convenient  for  a  necktie 
party. 

The  next  morning  his  body  was  found  swinging  beside 
the  trail,  and  some  freighters  coming  in  with  buffalo  hides 
reported  it  to  Justice  Steele,  and  a  negro  was  sent  down 
to  dig  a  hole,  cut  the  rope  and  let  the  body  drop  into  it. 

This  was  considered  equal  and  exact  justice  for  such  a 
crime  as  Joe  had  committed. 

If  he  had  put  up  a  neat  job,  with  some  semblance  of 
fair  play,  he  would  have  been  forgiven,  and  perhaps 
praised.  But  to  become  a  highway  robber  and  a  cold- 
blooded murderer,  could  not  be  tolerated. 

KILLING  A  BUFFALO  SOLDIER 

When  the  white  soldiers  were  transferred  to  other 
posts  the  garrison  was  filled  with  seven  companies  of 
negroes,  or,  as  the  Tonkawa  Indians  called  them,  "buf- 
falo soldiers,"  and  the  white  people  generally  showed 
their  disapproval.  This  brought  about  friction  that  de- 
veloped into  hatred  and  resentment,  and  occasionally  open 
rupture  between  the  two  races.  And  this  notwithstand- 


88  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

ing  the  peace  officers  cooperated  with  the  military  offi- 
cers in  an  effort  to  prevent  open  hostilities.  The  "buf- 
falo soldiers"  dared  not  venture  into  the  Flat  unless  there 
were  at  least  half  a  dozen  in  the  crowd,  carrying  their  side 
arms.  Even  then  they  were  only  suffered  to  patronize 
the  low  dives  that  pandered  to  their  trade. 

One  evening  a  drunken  negro  soldier  separated  from 
his  pals  and  staggered  into  the  street  and  started  up  the 
sidewalk.  He  had  not  gone  far  until  he  collided  with  a 
buffalo  hunter  and  began  to  dispute  the  right  of  way. 
The  negro  was  killed,  and  his  comrades  carried  him  to 
the  post  under  the  surveillance  of  the  populace. 

When  the  cortege  arrived  it  created  the  greatest  excite- 
ment, and  almost  a  mutiny  followed  the  announcement 
of  the  soldier's  death.  The  negroes  ran  to  the  parade 
ground  and  bunched  in  a  mass,  and  began  to  gesticulate 
in  a  wild,  frenzied  manner,  while  the  officers  endeavored 
to  quiet  them.  It  required  a  great  deal  of  persuasion  and 
a  promise  to  investigate  to  prevent  a  rush  to  arms  and  a 
charge  down  the  hill  among  the  denizens  of  the  Flat. 

In  the  meantime  the  sheriff  and  the  marshal  were  try- 
ing to  subdue  the  demonstrations  of  hostilities  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill. 

Bad  blood  was  boiling  and  danger  of  a  conflict  immi- 
nent. Business  was  suspended  and  buffalo  guns  and 
Winchester  rifles  were  in  evidence.  Preparations  to  meet 
a  grave  emergency  were  going  on. 

Fortunately,  Captain  Arrington  and  his  company  of 
State  rangers  rode  into  town  by  the  way  of  Jackson's 
store. 

The  addition  of  these  bronzed  veteran  troopers  gave 
power  to  the  sheriff,  and  the  argument  of  persuasion 
changed  to  one  of  command  to  disperse  and  let  the  law 
take  its  course.  But  after  taps,  when  near  the  hour  of 


"WILD   AND   WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  89 

midnight,  the  negroes  left  their  quarters  about  one  hun- 
dred strong,  and  securing  their  guns  from  the  arsenal, 
moved  silently  to  a  position  within  easy  range  of  the 
Flat. 

It  was  a  starlight  night,  and  the  bars  of  light  from  the 
saloons  and  dance  halls  presented  a  dazzling  mark. 

The  sounds  of  ribald  laughter,  mingled  with  the  music 
that  floated  up  from  these  dens  of  immorality,  told  the 
sad  story  of  lewd  women  and  besotted  men.  The  inci- 
dent of  the  evening  had  been  forgotten.  So  trivial  a 
thing  as  the  death  of  any  man,  much  less  a  negro  soldier, 
was  not  allowed  to  disturb  the  gaiety  of  the  Flat.  But 
there  came  a  crashing  report  of  firearms,  and  the  bullets 
flew  fast  and  thick.  The  music  ceased,  the  laughter  died 
away  and  the  lights  went  out.  And  for  a  brief  space 
silence  reigned. 

Then  there  was  a  flash  and  a  sharp  report  of  a  buffalo 
gun  in  the  Flat.  The  bullet  sang  its  way  up  the  hill  and 
over  the  fort.  There  was  another  report,  and  another, 
then  the  firing  became  faster  and  faster,  as  one  after  an- 
other joined  in,  until  the  whole  Flat  seemed  to  have  gone 
into  action  against  the  fort.  But  after  the  first  volley 
the  soldiers  had  retired  to  their  quarters  to  escape  detec- 
tion by  the  officers. 

Receiving  no  response  the  buffalo  hunters  soon  tired  of 
wasting  ammunition.  And  for  once  in  its  history  the  Flat 
was  silent  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

Strange  to  say,  by  reason  of  the  soldiers'  aim  being  too 
high  in  the  dark,  only  one  child  was  slightly  wounded 
during  this  fusillade. 

The  occasion  of  sending  these  negro  troops  to  Fort 
Griffin  to  relieve  the  white  troops  ordered  to  Fort  Clark 
had  a  tragic  beginning. 

While  the  officers  were  turning  over  the  commissary 


90  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

department  and  checking  in  the  new  command,  a  squad 
of  white  soldiers  escaped  to  the  Flat  and  loaded  up  on 
bad  whisky.  Captain  Lincoln,  in  command  of  the  negro 
troops,  with  the  brevet  of  Colonel,  had  occasion  to  visit 
the  Flat  and  discovered  the  drunken  soldiers.  He  imme- 
diately ordered  them  to  their  quarters.  One,  too  far 
gone  in  inebriation  to  respect  his  rank,  told  the  Captain 
to  go  to  a  warmer  climate  than  Texas.  The  Captain 
pulled  his  revolver  and  killed  the  soldier. 

For  a  few  moments  it  looked  like  the  Captain  would  be 
mobbed  by  infuriated  cowboys  and  buffalo  hunters,  but 
the  marshal  and  a  dozen  State  rangers  took  the  officer 
in  charge  and  protected  him  from  personal  violence. 

After  a  preliminary  hearing  before  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  Captain  Lincoln  was  released  on  bond.  By  re- 
quest of  the  department  at  Washington,  he  was  turned 
over  to  the  military  and  tried  by  court  martial  and  ac- 
quitted. 

LESS  SENSE  THAN  JUDGMENT 

An  Italian  gunsmith,  who  did  a  thriving  business  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  all  men  carried  guns  in  those  days, 
also  possessed  an  inherent  love  for  music  and  made  the 
mistake  of  ordering  an  E-flat  horn  with  one  of  his  con- 
signments of  supplies. 

It  arrived  one  day  on  a  freight  wagon,  much  to  the  de- 
light of  the  little  gunsmith,  who,  as  eager  as  a  child  with 
a  new  toy,  closed  the  door  of  his  shack  and  began  to  test 
his  lungs  by  trying  to  fill  the  horn  with  his  breath,  and 
succeeded  in  producing  some  unearthly  screeches.  This 
aroused  a  spirit  of  resentment  among  his  neighbors,  who 
voiced  their  disapproval  by  firing  a  few  shots  into  his 
shack.  The  gunsmith,  taking  the  hint,  waited  until  night 
and  went  out  into  the  mesquite  brush,  about  a  half-mile 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"  CITIZENS  91 

from  the  Flat,  and  opened  up  with  a  series  of  sounds  that 
even  made  the  coyotes  sit  up  and  take  notice. 

This  innovation  brought  forth  a  vigorous  protest  from 
several  directions,  with  a  few  well  directed  shots  that 
caused  the  noise  to  abate  with  a  spasmodic  quack  of  a 
wounded  duck. 

The  little  gunsmith  was  as  mad  as  a  wet  hen  when  he 
.came  running  into  Charley  Meyer's  saloon,  where  a  jolly 
crowd  of  cowboys  were  having  a  levee. 

Holding  up  his  horn  to  exhibit  its  battered  condition, 
the  gunsmith  fairly  stormed  in  his  rage. 

"Zay,  why  you  no  like  ze  music,  eh  ?  Sacre,  da  Ameri- 
can is — is  der,  what  you  call  him,  der  big  ass  dat  have 
the  long  ears?  Why  ze  devil  you  shoot  my  horn,  eh? 
Zat  horn  he  cost  me  twenty  dollars." 

"What  is  the  matter,  Dago?  Been  eating  something 
that  don't  agree  with  you?" 

"Oh,  sacre !  I  feel  me  disgusted  and  I  don't  care  for 
the  old  town  some  more,  I  tell  youz !"  And  he  departed 
amid  a  shout  of  laughter. 

RUNNING  A  BLUFF  ON  THE  OFFICERS 

Mike  Kegan,  a  cow  puncher  from  Sam  Ward's  ranch, 
was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  the  Flat  and  getting  on  a 
protracted  spree.  He  delighted  in  going  into  a  saloon 
and  making  a  rough  house.  Time  and  again  he  was 
pulled  by  the  marshal  and  compelled  to  pay  a  fane.  But 
this  seemed  only  to  encourage  him  to  greater  efforts  in. 
cussedness.  Consequently,  the  friction  between  him  and 
the  officers  became  so  tense  that  a  shooting  scrape  was 
imminent. 

One  Saturday  morning  Mike  and  his  brother  John 
hitched  their  bronchos  in  front  of  Dick  Jones'  saloon  and 
began  to  tank  up.  It  did  not  take  long  before  Mike  was 
on  a  dangerous  jag,  while  John,  the  more  conservative 


92  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

of  the  two,  was  trying  to  mollify  Mike  and  induce  him  to 
return  to  the  ranch,  but  this  only  caused  him  to  talk 
louder  and  curse  viciously.  Then  breaking  through  all 
restraint,  he  mounted  his  pony  and  dashed  up  the  avenue 
at  full  speed,  whooping  and  shooting  at  every  jump. 

Marshal  Barker,  standing  in  front  of  Gulp  Bros.'  hard- 
ware store,  stepped  inside  and  secured  a  shotgun,  threw 
two  cartridges  of  buckshot  into  the  barrels  and  ran  out- 
side in  time  to  head  off  the  reckless  Mike. 

"Drop  your  six-shooter,  Mike,  and  roll  off  that  bronc, 
or  I  will  fill  you  full  of  holes." 

Mike  pulled  his  pony  back  upon  its  haunches  and 
looked  down  the  muzzle  of  the  marshal's  gun. 

"Drop  your  gun,  quick,  Mike,  if  you  want  to  live  long 
enough  to  make  your  will." 

"Well,  Dave,  you  have  the  drop  on  me,  and  I  guess 
there  is  no  chance  for  a  stand-off.  Here  is  the  shooting- 
iron  and  I'm  a  candidate  for  the  lockup.  But  if  I  had  an 
even  break  there  would  be  a  mixup  sure  as  you  live, 
Dave." 

The  marshal  picked  up  the  six-shooter  and  compelled 
Mike  to  march  in  front  of  him  to  Justice  Steele's  office, 
and  answer  a  charge  of  disturbing  the  peace. 

"Bring  out  your  branding-iron,  Judge,  I'm  ready  to 
take  my  medicine." 

"Wait  until  the  county  attorney  writes  the  complaint," 
said  his  Honor,  and  then  I  will  give  you  a  hearing,  Mr. 
Kegan." 

"Oh,  come  off  with  your  legal  palaver,  Judge,  and  tell 
me  the  price  of  the  hold  up." 

"It  will  be  $5  and  the  costs  if  you  shut  that  fly  trap, 
and  $10  more  if  you  don't  keep  quiet." 

"There  is  $50,  Judge ;  just  keep  the  change,  for  I'll  be 
in  contempt  again  before  leaving  the  Flat."  And  without 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"  CITIZENS  93 

another  word  Mike  left  the  office  before  the  astonished 
justice  could  call  him  back. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  relate  the  occurrence,  Ke- 
gan  was  astride  of  his  pony  speeding  down  the  avenue 
once  more.  Meeting  his  brother  John,  he  snatched  the 
pistol  from  his  belt  and  began  another  fusillade. 

The  marshal  grabbed  his  gun  and  rushed  out  to  inter- 
cept the  "wild  and  woolly"  Mike.  No  sooner  did  he 
emerge  from  the  office  than  Mike  charged  down  upon 
him. 

There  was  a  flash  from  the  marshal's  gun  and  the 
broncho  tumbled  to  his  knees,  throwing  the  doughty 
knight  of  the  prairie  over  his  head,  and  before  he  could 
recover  he  was  again  under  arrest. 

"Guilty  or  not  guilty?"  said  the  judge. 

"Not  guilty,"  said  Mike. 

"Want  a  jury?" 

"No,  I  have  already  paid  the  price  of  my  contempt  for 
this  court." 

"Shut  up,  or  I  will  have  you  bound  and  gagged." 

"All  right,  Judge ;  start  the  mill  to  grinding ;  the  grist 
is  ready." 

"Introduce  the  evidence,  Mr.  Attorney." 

Two  witnesses  were  introduced  for  the  State. 

"Any  witnesses,  Mr.  Kegan?" 

"No ;  what  the  devil  do  I  want  with  witnesses,  Judge  ?" 

"The  State  closes,"  said  the  attorney.  And  may  it 
please  your  honor,  as  the  defendant  has  no  attorney,  I 
have  nothing  to  say,  and  submit  the  case  without  argu- 
ment." 

"Have  you  anything  to  say,  Mr.  Kegan?"  said  the 
Judge. 

"No,  replied  Kegan ;  "as  the  State  has  no  attorney,  I 
have  nothing  to  say,  either." 


94        THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"One  hundred  dollars  and  the  costs,"  said  the  judge. 

The  laugh  was  on  the  county  attorney,  and  it  cost  him 
$5  to  set  up  the  drinks  to  the  boys. 

But  neither  the  fine  nor  the  dangerous  experience  had 
any  effect  on  Kegan,  who  several  years  afterward  was 
killed  in  a  duel  with  officers  in  a  western  county. 

And  in  this  connection  it  is  appropriate  to  give  a  brief 
description  of  the  man  who  dispensed  justice  in  those 
days. 

JUSTICE  STEELE 

Justice  Steele  was  an  ex-army  officer,  who  held  the 
rank  of  colonel  during  the  Civil  War,  but  in  the  reorgan- 
ization at  the  close  of  hostilities,  was  slated  as  a  lieuten- 
ant, and  came  to  Fort  Griffin  with  his  command.  When 
he  resigned  he  donned  civilians'  attire,  and  settled  down 
near  the  fort  to  make  a  home. 

The  Colonel's  popularity  was  so  great  among  the  den- 
izens of  the  Flat,  that  he  was  elected  justice  of  the  peace 
without  opposition,  and  held  the  office  until  the  fort  was 
abandoned  and  the  Flat  became  a  country  village. 

During  the  heyday  of  his  career  as  justice,  Colonel 
Steele  was  one  of  the  boys,  always  ready  to  take  part  in 
a  game  of  chance  and  go  the  rounds  of  the  dance  halls 
and  the  saloons.  Often  did  he  appear  on  the  bench  with 
black  eyes  and  a  swollen  countenance,  after  a  night's 
debauch.  But  this  in  nowise  interfered  with  his  admin- 
istration of  justice.  Sitting  back  in  his  arm  chair,  hands 
raised  in  front  of  him  and  finger  tips  touching,  he  would 
assess  a  fine  on  his  comrades  of  the  night  before,  without 
the  slightest  hesitation,  notwithstanding  their  looks  of 
astonishment  and  muttered  cussing.  Yet  Colonel  Steele 
was  not  a  contradiction  of  himself,  but  only  a  product 
of  the  times,  that  gave  to  every  man  the  freedom  of  con- 
duct and  keeper  of  his  own  conscience. 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  95 

Whether  Colonel  Steele's  love  of  the  curious  prompted 
him  to  display  a  brass-barrel  horse-pistol  and  a  long- 
blade  Turkish  knife  in  the  pigeonholes  of  his  office  desk, 
was  a  question  of  conjecture.  But  the  dare-devil  cow 
punchers  who  were  arraigned  in  his  court  for  misde- 
meanors called  them  the  Colonel's  peacemakers.  And 
when  the  effects  of  too  much  firewater  made  them  ob- 
streperous, and  inclined  to  find  fault  with  the  court's 
rulings,  he  emphasized  his  decisions  by  letting  his  right 
hand  rest  near  the  handle  of  the  pistol.  This  movement 
of  his  honor  had  the  desired  effect,  and  the  belligerent 
boys  generally  quieted  down,  with  an  aside  remark  about 
the  "old  rooster's"  arsenal. 

"Say,  Pete,"  said  a  cow  puncher,  one  day,  "do  you 
reckon  the  old  galoot  would  use  the  blunderbuss?" 

"Sure  thing,  Bill;  they  say  that  he  trims  the  trees  in 
his  orchard  with  that  gun — keeps  it  loaded  with  twelve 
buckshot  when  he  holds  court." 

"Joe  McCombs  says  that  the  Colonel  mows  prairie 
grass  for  his  hens'  nests  with  that  gun." 

"Whew !    You  don't  say  ?    How  does  he  do  it,  cully  ?" 

"Oh,  dead  easy.  Just  fills  it  to  the  muzzle  with  bird- 
shot,  then  steps  down  into  a  gulch,  so  that  his  arm  comes 
on  a  level  with  the  grass,  gives  a  sweeping  motion  and 
turns  it  loose.  Joe  says  the  Colonel  raked  up  an  arm- 
ful of  grass  from  one  discharge." 

"Think  I'm  dead  easy,  to  believe  a  yarn  like  that,  don't 
you?" 

"Please  yourself,  Pete;  but  if  you  think  the  Colonel 
will  not  put  that  pistol  into  action,  you  are  plumb  locoed, 
pard." 

"  'Course  I'm  not  going  to  take  chances,  Bill ;  'alee 
samee,'  I  think  it  is  a  big  bluff." 

"Order  in  court,"  said  his  Honor,  as  he  picked  his  teeth 
with  the  sharp  point  of  the  Turkish  knife. 


96  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"Well,  he's  a  game  old  sport,  and  he's  backed  up  by 
the  law,  too,  Bill.  I  guess  I'll  take  my  medicine  straight, 
instead  of  trying  to  clean  out  the  court,  and  pay  the 
doctor  to  pick  out  the  shot  after  the  fracas  is  over." 

"Keep  order  in  court !  The  next  case  on  the  docket  is 
the  State  of  Texas  versus  Pete  Haverty." 

The  abandonment  of  Fort  Griffin  and  the  extermina- 
tion of  the  buffalo  in  1882  deprived  the  denizens  of  the 
Flat  of  their  revenue,  and  they  scattered  to  the  four 
corners  of  the  earth,  and  Colonel  Steele  returned  to  his 
old  home  at  Concord,  N.  H. 

STOVEPIPE  JOE 

Stovepipe  Joe  was  a  regular  rounder,  with  a  slippery 
record  for  crookedness,  and  suspicion  rested  on  him  for 
many  crimes  not  proven. 

One  day  he  picked  a  quarrel  with  a  discharged  soldier 
known  as  Scotty.  He  armed  himself  and  followed  Scotty 
to  his  home.  The  soldier  was  unarmed,  and  when  he  saw 
his  desperate  assailant,  tried  to  escape  by  running  around 
the  house  to  where  his  wife  was  washing  .clothes. 

The  woman  fell  upon  her  knees  and  begged  for  the 
life  of  her  husband,  but  Joe  killed  him  before  her  eyes. 

The  next  morning  Joe  was  found  hanging  to  a  tree 
on  Collin's  creek. 

THE  CATTLE  RUSTLERS  AND  HORSE  THIEVES 

Another  band  of  desperadoes,  led  by  Andy  Brownlee, 
Bill  Townsend,  Charley  McBride  and  Jim  English,  oper- 
ated in  ( the  surrounding  range  and  made  Griffin  their 
headquarters.  No  effort  was  made  by  members  of  the 
gang  to  disguise  their  identity.  In  fact,  they  were  in  the 
habit  of  boasting  of  their  achievements  and  defying  the 
officers  to  arrest  them. 

The  gang  numbered  about  thirty,  and  their  operations 


"WILD  AND  WOOLLY"   CITIZENS  97 

did  more  to  bring  into  existence  the  Vigilance  Committee 
for  the  protection  of  life  and  property  than  all  other 
causes  combined. 

Until  the  Vigilance  Committee  made  it  too  unhealthy 
for  them,  horse  thieves  and  cattle  rustlers  were  very 
bold  and  daring  in  their  operations. 

A  striking  demonstration  of  this  lawlessness  was  ex- 
hibited on  the  avenue  one  evening. 

Jack  Masterson,  a  quartermaster's  sergeant  at  the  fort, 
rode  down  the  hill  to  the  corner  store,  where  he  was  a 
silent  partner  with  Sam  Stinson  in  a  general  merchandise 
business. 

The  animal  that  he  was  riding,  an  iron-gray  cavalry 
horse,  about  sixteen  hands  high,  was  a  fine  specimen  of 
the  equine  breed. 

Dismounting  at  the  door,  Masterson  unwound  his  lasso 
from  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and  holding  on  to  the  end 
walked  within  the  store  to  talk  with  Stinson.  While 
thus  engaged,  a  notorious  character  who  traveled  under 
the  sobriquet  of  "Snaky  Jim"  came  sauntering  along  the 
walk,  and  without  the  least  hesitation,  cut  the  lasso, 
mounted  the  horse  and  rode  away,  leaving  Masterson 
holding  the  detached  end  of  the  lasso. 

Masterson  was  an  Englishman  and  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
having  served  in  the  Crimean  war,  the  Civil  war  on  the 
side  of  the  Confederacy,  with  Maximilian  in  Mexico,  and 
then  enlisted  in  the  Regulars  with  Uncle  Sam,  and  from 
varied  experience  was  not  easily  disturbed.  But  as  he 
contemplated  the  situation  he  seemed  to  be  nonplussed. 

"Well,  I  call  that  a  scurvy  trick  to  take  a  sneaking  ad- 
vantage of  a  gentleman  when  his  back  is  turned.  Espe- 
cially when  it  will  be  difficult  to  explain  to  the  Colonel 
how  I  came  to  lose  one  of  the  best  cavalry  horses  in  the 
service." 

7 


98  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

When  last  seen,  "Snaky  Jim"  was  speeding  the  horse 
down  Griffin  avenue  to  the  crossing  of  the  Clear  Fork. 

Masterson  received  a  severe  reprimand  from  the  post 
commander  and  the  government  was  minus  a  good  horse. 
And,  beyond  its  humorous  side,  very  little  attention  was 
paid  to  the  incident. 

Names  and  incidents  could  be  multiplied  almost  in- 
definitely to  prove  the  reckless  indifference  to  the  law 
before  the  regime  of  the  Vigilance  Committee.  But  suffi- 
cient has  been  told  to  impress  the  readers  of  the  gravity 
of  the  situation  in  and  around  Fort  Griffin. 

How  easily  men  can  become  accustomed  to  such  a  sit- 
uation was  demonstrated  by  the  commercial  relations 
that  existed  between  the  merchants  and  this  class  of  cus- 
tom. An  illegitimately  acquired  dollar  purchased  a  des- 
perado all  the  accommodations  that  legitimate  trade  could 
command. 


CHAPTER   V 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE 

They  came  at  midnight,  carrying  vengeance  and  death  in  their 

hands, 
And,  without  either  judge  or  jury,  tried  men  of  those  lawless 

bands. 

From  observations  from  day  to  day,  in  his  rounds  of 
the  fort  and  the  Flat,  it  did  not  take  Kentuck  long  to 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  trouble  brewing 
between  the  unlawful  denizens  and  the  better  element  of 
the  people. 

The  sheriff  and  his  deputies  and  the  marshal  had  long 
known  that  an  organized  gang  of  cut-throats,  robbers  and 
cattle  rustlers,  with  a  stronghold  in  the  Wichita  moun- 
tains, near  Fort  Sill  in  the  Indian  Territory,  operated  in 
and  around  Fort  Griffin,  under  the  leadership  of  Charley 
McBride,  Bill  English  and  Jim  Townsend,  and  that  the 
gang  was  too  large  for  the  officers  to  tackle  single- 
handed.  They  were  also  aware  that  unless  they  could 
organize  a  posse  strong  enough  to  follow  the  robbers  to 
their  stronghold  and  give  them  battle,  it  would  be  useless 
to  try  to  execute  a  warrant  against  a  member  of  the 
gang. 

So  well  organized  was  this  band  that  they  could  muster 
from  twenty-five  to  thirty  desperate  men,  well  armed  and 
ready  to  fight.  Then  there  were  at  least  double  that 
number  of  sympathizers  who  lived  off  their  bounty,  and 
furnished  them  information  that  enabled  them  to  suc- 
cessfully operate  and  conceal  the  evidence  of  their  crime. 

99 


100  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

And  whenever  a  member  of  the  band  was  caught  napping 
and  arrested,  his  pals  would  either  rescue  him  or  come 
into  court  and  swear  him  out  of  limbo. 

Therefore,  it  was  no  great  surprise  to  Kentuck  a  few 
months  later  when  he  heard  it  whispered  in  confidence 
that  a  Vigilance  Committee  was  being  organized,  and, 
that  sooner  or  later,  those  who  did  not  respect  life  or 
property  would  come  to  grief. 

From  his  knowledge  of  the  history  of  California  and 
other  frontiers,  Kentuck  was  certain  that  the  Griffin  com- 
munity must  go  through  a  similar  experience  before  the 
law-abiding  citizens  could  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  labor. 
Consequently,  Kentuck  "sawed  wood"  and  waited  devel- 
opments. And  while  he  deplored  the  necessity  for  sum- 
mary justice,  recognized  that  "silence  is  golden"  at  this 
juncture. 

One  not  a  member  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  could 
not  know  whether  his  neighbor  belonged  to  the  society  or 
not,  but  one  thing  he  did  learn — that  there  was  a  con- 
centrated and  determined  effort  to  rid  the  community  of 
thieves  and  murderers. 

That  the  Vigilance  Committee's  work  proved  eminently 
successful  was  demonstrated  in  less  than  six  months  from 
the  time  the  trees  began  to  bear  human  fruit. 

The  McBride-English-Townsend  gang  rendezvoused  in 
a  shanty  at  the  end  of  the  avenue  on  the  bank  of  the  Clear 
Fork.  Indian  Kate  and  her  daughter  Mag  lived  there. 
Kate  was  half  Indian  and  half  Mexican,  and  possessed 
all  the  cunning  treachery  of  both.  Mag  was  the  offspring 
of  Kate  and  a  renegade  negro,  named  Cato,  who  joined 
the  Comanches  in  their  raids  on  the  white  settlers. 

In  this  shanty  the  gang  would  meet  and  lay  their  plans, 
and  many  queer  stories  were  told  of  their  plotting  in  the 
dark  hours  of  the  night. 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  101 

But  one  frosty  morning  a  cowboy  riding-  in  from  the 
Matthews  ranch,  leisurely  following  the  trail  through  the 
Clear  Fork  bottom,  discovered  the  bodies  of  McBride, 
Townsend  and  Brownlee  hanging  from  the  same  limb. 
It  was  learned  later  that  English  had  escaped  from  the 
committee  and  was  seen  on  the  trail  to  Kansas. 

About  this  time  Kentuck  was  offered  the  position  and 
accepted  the  office  of  Justice  of  the  Peace  of  Precinct 
No.  i,  including  the  county  seat,  the  embryo  town  of 
Albany,  in  the  center  of  the  county,  sixteen  miles  from 
the  fort.  And  his  first  call  to  official  duty  was  a  request 
to  hold  an  inquest  over  the  bodies  of  two  men  hung  by 
the  Vigilantes. 

The  two  men  found  hanging  to  the  tree  that  morning 
had  paid  the  penalty  of  a  most  revolting  crime. 

When  the  news  came  to  Albany  that  a  foul  murder  and 
robbery  had  been  committed  on  a  ranch  near  old  Fort 
Phantom  Hill  in  Jones  county,  attached  to  Shackelford 
for  judicial  purposes,  a  warrant  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  Sheriff  John  M.  Laren,  and  he  summoned  a  posse  and 
started  in  pursuit  of  the  murderers.  After  a  diligent 
search  near  the  scene  of  the  crime  it  was  learned  that 
the  criminals  were  hurrying  along  the  trail  to  Kansas. 
Securing  the  necessary  requisition  papers  Sheriff  Laren 
followed  them,  and  nothing  more  was  seen  of  him  until 
one  morning  two  months  later,  when  he  arrived  in  Al- 
bany with  the  two  men  accused  of  the  crime. 

And  notwithstanding  a  guard  of  four  men  was  put  in 
charge  of  the  prisoners,  the  Vigilance  Committee  came  in 
the  night,  and  the  next  morning  they  were  turned  over 
to  Kentuck  for  inquest  and  burial. 

For  the  greater  portion  of  the  next  two  years  following 
this  inquest  Kentuck's  official  duties  of  the  office  of  jus- 
tice of  the  peace  were  confined  to  inquests  and  mar- 
riages. 


102  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  willful  cussedness  of  those  desperadoes  who  op- 
erated in  and  around  both  Griffin  and  Albany  made  it 
necessary  for  the  Vigilance  Committee  to  furnish  the 
corpses  to  plant  a  graveyard  outside  the  limits  of  both 
towns.  And  it  was  surprising  how  fast  these  silent  cities 
of  the  dead  grew  in  proportion  to  the  population  of  the 
towns  and  the  surrounding  country. 

During  this  period  street  duels  between  the  officers  and 
lawless  men,  especially  in  the  Flat  around  the  fort,  was 
almost  a  daily  occurrence.  But  the  local  authorities, 
aided  by  Captain  Arrington  and  a  company  of  Texas 
rangers,  made  it  a  losing  game  for  the  vicious  characters, 
but  space  forbids  the  writer  going  into  details. 

One  of  the  most  startling  developments  during  the 
reign  of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  that  cast  a  gloom  over 
the  whole  community,  was  the  discovery  that  a  well 
planned  system  of  cunning  thievery  and  red-handed  mur- 
der was  carried  on  by  ex-Sheriff  John  M.  Laren  and  his 
pal,  John  Sillman. 

The  confidence  of  the  people  in  Laren  when  they 
elected  him  sheriff,  and  his  subsequent  stability  as  a 
prominent  ranchman,  could  not  be  shaken  by  anything 
short  of  positive  evidence  of  his  guilt. 

Consequently,  notwithstanding  persistent  rumors  dur- 
ing his  term  of  office,  it  was  several  months  after  his 
successor,  Bill  Crugef,  was  sworn  in  before  the  rumors 
were  run  down  and  the  facts  unearthed. 

Even  then  his  connection  by  marriage  with  a  promi- 
nent family  caused  the  authorities  to  hesitate  before  tak- 
ing any  legal  steps  to  accuse  him  of  crime.  But  like  all 
successful  criminals,  Laren  and  Sillman  became  bolder 
and  bolder  in  their  operations,  until  their  acts  could  no 
longer  escape  notice. 

But  when  the  officers  had  matured  plans  for  their  ar- 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  1Q3 

rest  they  were  informed  that  they  were  members  of  the 
McBride-English-Townsend  gang,  and  it  would  be  wis- 
dom to  go  slow. 

SHERIFF  JOHN  M.  LAREN  AND  His  DEPUTY,  JOHN 

SlLLMAN 

No  place  on  this  earth  did  circumstances  and  condi- 
tions develop  more  queer  characters  and  marshal  to- 
gether more  desperate  men  and  women  than  the  Flat  sur- 
rounding the  foot  of  Government  Hill. 

Among  those  who  were  attracted  to  Fort  Griffin  by  the 
hustle  and  bustle  incident  to  the  rush  of  business,  and 
the  wild  life  of  vice  in  the  "Flat,"  were  two  men  by 
name  of  John  M.  Laren  and  John  Sillman. 

No  one  knew  and  very  few  cared  about  their  antece- 
dents. Laren  drifted  down  the  trail  from  Fort  Dodge, 
Kan.,  and  Sillman  came  from  nowhere  in  particular. 
Within  a  week  of  their  arrival  they  became  companions 
and  fast  friends,  and  continued  these  relations  until  the 
Vigilance  Committee  killed  Laren  and  chased  Sillman  off 
the  range. 

The  career  of  these  two  men  was  meteoric  in  its  flight 
and  startling  in  its  details. 

Laren  secured  employment  on  a  near-by  ranch,  with 
headquarters  on  the  banks  of  the  Clear  Fork  a  few  miles 
southeast  of  the  fort.  He  soon  proved  to  be  a  careful, 
experienced  cow  puncher,  and  won  the  confidence  of  the 
ranchman,  who  advanced  him  to  the  important  position 
of  "range  boss." 

In  this  capacity  he  became  the  associate  of  the  members 
of  the  family,  whose  confidence  he  gained  by  exemplary 
conduct  and  clean  personal  habits.  And  being  unusually 
bright  and  intelligent,  he  gained  the  confidence  and  the 
affection  of  Mary,  one  of  the  ranchman's  daughters,  and 


104  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

after  a  brief  courtship  married  her,  notwithstanding  there 
was  some  opposition  from  her  parents,  who  protested  be- 
cause their  daughter  knew  little  or  nothing  about  Laren. 

The  young  couple  selected  old  Camp  Cooper  as  a  sat- 
isfactory place  for  a  home,  and  built  one  of  the  most  sub- 
stantial two-story  stone  ranch  houses  in  Throckmorton 
county. 

With  the  assistance  of  his  father-in-law,  Laren  pur- 
chased a  small  herd  of  cattle,  and  to  all  appearances  led 
the  life  of  a  young  ranchman  who  desired  to  succeed  and 
prosper  in  his  line  of  business. 

In  the  meantime  his  duties  as  "range  boss"  brought 
him  in  contact  with  all  the  cattlemen  and  cowboys  on  the 
Griffin  range,  with  whom  he  soon  became  a  general  fa- 
vorite. 

Sheriff  Henry  Jacobs'  term  of  office  was  about  to  ex- 
pire, and  considerable  opposition  to  his  reelection  devel- 
oped, especially  among  the  citizens  of  the  Flat  and  the 
reckless  cow  punchers,  who  resented  any  interference 
with  their  wild  sport  when  they  desired  to  shoot  up  the 
town. 

The  opposition  to  Jacobs  proposed  Laren's  name  for 
his  successor,  and  he  was  elected  to  the  office  the  follow- 
ing November. 

True  to  the  bond  of  friendship  between  them,  Laren 
appointed  his  old  comrade,  Sillman,  deputy  sheriff. 

Local  conditions  demanded  brave  officers,  and  Sheriff 
Laren  and  his  deputy,  Sillman,  proved  to  be  the  men  of 
the  hour. 

The  ink  was  hardly  dry  where  he  subscribed  to  the 
oath  of  office,  until  a  warrant  was  placed  in  his  hands 
for  the  arrest  of  "Shorty"  Collins,  an  all-around  horse 
thief,  crook  and  murderer. 

"Shorty"  was  at  that  moment  taking  in  the  town  under 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  105 

the  protecting  wing  of  a  bunch  of  Southern  Texas  cow- 
punchers.  "Shorty"  was  both  desperate  and  brave,  and 
when  loaded  with  bad  whisky  and  backed  up  with  reck- 
less companions  was  a  dangerous  proposition  to  tackle. 
•  Laren  and  Sillman  confronted  "Shorty"  and  his  com- 
panions on  the  avenue  in  front  of  E.  Frankle's  store. 
It  was  a  lively  bunch  of  reckless  dare-devils,  bent  on  mis- 
chief and  prepared  to  fight  any  opposition.  "Shorty" 
was  leading  the  gang  when  Sheriff  Laren  pulled  out  the 
warrant  and  commanded  him  to  throw  up  his  hands  and 
consider  himself  under  arrest.  Like  a  flash,  "Shorty's" 
hand  dropped  to  the  handle  of  his  gun ;  at  the  same  sec- 
ond Sillman  sent  a  bullet  crashing  through  "Shorty's" 
left  breast,  and  he  fell  dead  at  the  sheriff's  feet. 

For  a  moment  it  looked  like  the  sheriff  and  his  deputy 
would  be  shot  to  pieces  by  "Shorty's"  infuriated  com- 
panions, but  a  quick,  determined  stand  with  their  six- 
shooters  in  the  face  of  the  enraged  cow  punchers  gave 
time  for  parley. 

"This  is  not  your  funeral,  boys,"  said  Laren.  "This 
man  'Shorty'  is  a  hardened  criminal,  and  only  got  what  is 
coming  to  him.  He  threw  in  with  your  bunch  to  escape 
being  arrested.  It  is  all  right  for  you  to  stay  with  a 
friend,  and  I  would  consider  that  you  were  'white-livered' 
curs  if  you  deserted  a  friend.  But  I  know  you  do  not 
wish  to  shield  a  horse  thief  and  a  murderer." 

"No,"  said  Heck  Thomas,  the  trail  boss,  "we  don't 
want  to  line  up  with  any  horse  thief  and  murderer,  sheriff, 
but  we'll  sure  stick  to  a  white  cuss  when  he's  down  on  his 
luck." 

"That's  right,  boys ;  come  in  and  take  a  drink  on  me," 
said  Laren. 

This  closed  the  incident,  with  the  exception  that  Justice 
Steele  held  an  inquest,  and  "Shorty's"  remains  were 
buried  on  "Bootleg"  hill. 


106  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

During  the  first  six  months  of  his  term  Laren  did  more 
to  quell  lawlessness  than  any  man  who  served  the  people 
as  sheriff,  before  or  since  his  time. 

During  his  term  of  office  the  government  advertised 
for  bids  to  furnish  the  garrison  with  fresh  beef,  and 
Laren  and  Sillman  were  awarded  the  contract.  This 
required  a  supply  of  three  beeves  each  day. 

Sillman,  up  to  the  time  of  his  appointment  as  Laren's 
deputy,  was  an  all-around  sport,  horse  trader,  gambler 
and  three-card  man.  Consequently,  he  had  an  extensive 
acquaintance  with  most  all  the  shady  tricks  practiced  in 
the  Flat,  and  the  shady  citizens  who  practiced  them. 

It  was  not  long  after  Laren  and  Sillman  secured  the 
beef  contract  and  began  to  deliver  the  meat  at  the  post 
until  ranchmen  in  the  vicinity  began  to  lose  some  of  their 
fat  steers.  But  for  some  time  it  was  charged  to  cattle 
rustlers,  who  were  known  to  cut  out  a  bunch  on  the  open 
range  and  drive  them  off  to  some  distant  market.  But  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  Laren  only  owned  a  small  herd 
and  Sillman  none,  and  that  they  had  never  purchased 
any  cattle,  suspicion  was  aroused  and  investigation  fol- 
lowed. Of  course,  this  was  carried  on  secretly,  but  noth- 
ing developed  to  confirm  the  suspicion  except  the  char- 
acter of  the  men  employed  by  Laren  and  Sillman.  But 
Laren  was  defeated  at  the  end  of  his  first  term  of  office, 
and  Bill  Cruger  was  elected. 

As  soon  as  Cruger  qualified,  the  ranchmen,  including 
Laren's  father-in-law  and  brothers-in-law,  began  a  thor- 
ough investigation. 

To  lend  zest  to  the  search  for  evidence,  it  was  reported 
that  two  men  who  built  a  mile  of  stone  fence  for  Laren 
had  mysteriously  disappeared  without  being  paid  for  their 
labor,  and  suspicion  pointed  to  foul  play. 

With  the  aid  of  Sheriff  Cruger  and  his  deputies  some 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  107 

tangible  evidence  was  secured  that  led  to  the  dragging  of 
a  deep  water  hole  in  the  Clear  Fork,  not  far  from  the 
fort. 

To  the  surprise  of  every  one,  about  200  hides  were 
discovered  bearing  the  marks  and  brands  of  ranchmen 
living  in  the  vicinity.  Thus  the  chain  of  circumstances 
began  to  wind,  slowly  but  surely,  around  Laren  and  Sill- 
man.  About  this  time  a  "nester"  by  the  name  of  Lan- 
caster, who  furnished  the  sheriff  with  the  information 
leading  to  the  dragging  of  the  deep  water  hole,  disap- 
peared from  his  home  one  morning,  and  as  he  did  not 
return  before  night,  his  frightened  wife  appealed  to  the 
sheriff  for  assistance.  Deputy  Jim  Draper  was  sent  out 
with  a  posse  to  hunt  for  Lancaster.  It  was  the  morning 
after  his  disappearance  that  Lancaster  was  discovered, 
wounded  and  concealed  in  the  brakes  along  the  river. 
Lancaster  said  that  Laren  and  Sillman  followed  him 
for  several  miles,  and  when  he  ran,  trying  to  escape,  they 
fired  on  him  as  he  dashed  over  the  bank,  and  that  he  was 
afraid  to  return  home  and  endanger  his  family.  Lancas- 
ter was  carried  to  his  home  to  pacify  his  wife,  then  taken 
to  Albany,  where  he  swore  to  a  complaint  before  Ken- 
tuck,  justice  of  the  peace  of  Precinct  No.  I,  charging 
John  M.  Laren  and  John  Sillman  with  assault  with  in- 
tent to  murder.  Kentuck  issued  the  proper  warrant  and 
placed  it  in  the  hands  of  Sheriff  Cruger,  who  summoned 
a  posse  of  twenty-five  men,  as  it  had  been  rumored  that 
Laren  could  summon  to  his  aid  at  least  twenty  well- 
armed  men. 

The  sheriff  and  his  posse  marched  across  the  open 
prairie  during  the  night  and  arrived  at  Laren's  ranch  an 
hour  before  daylight,  concealing  themselves  near  the 
corral.  Among  the  cattlemen  Laren  was  known  to  be  a 
dead  shot  with  a  six-shooter,  and  Cruger  and  his  men 
did  not  care  to  take  any  chances  on  his  capture. 


108  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Fate  seemed  to  play  into  the  hands  of  the  sheriff's 
posse,  for  Laren  came  out  with  the  milking  pail,  having 
forgotten  to  buckle  on  his  six-shooter.  When  he  came 
within  close  range  the  sheriff  and  his  men  covered  him 
with  their  guns  and  demanded  his  surrender. 

"Boys,  it  is  the  first  time  you  ever  caught  me  without 
my  gun,  or  any  chance  to  secure  it.  I'll  give  you  $500  to 
allow  my  wife  to  bring  my  gun  to  me,  and  I  will  take 
my  chances  with  the  whole  bunch.  Oh,  I  know,  you  are 
too  big  cowards  to  face  me  without  all  the  odds  in  your 
favor." 

"All  that  reckless  talk  will  do  you  no  good  now,  Laren. 
We  don't  intend  to  sacrifice  any  lives  to  please  your  de- 
sire for  a  fight,"  replied  Sheriff  Cruger. 

Three  men,  at  the  command  of  the  sheriff,  handcuffed 
Laren  and  forced  him  to  mount  a  horse,  securely  fasten- 
ing his  legs  beneath  the  saddle. 

The  posse,  with  their  prisoner,  then  took  up  their  line 
of  march  via  Griffin  for  Albany.  In  Griffin  there  was 
an  angry  demonstration  made  by  Laren's  friends,  and  for 
a  time  it  looked  like  there  might  be  a  clash  between  op- 
posing forces,  but  the  State  rangers  lined  up  with  the 
sheriff  and  overawed  the  lawless  element. 

The  county  of  Shackelford  had  not  built  a  jail  at  that 
time,  and  when  the  posse  arrived  in  Albany  with  their 
prisoner  it  was  necessary  to  place  Laren  under  guard 
with  the  other  prisoners  in  a  box  house. 

In  the  meantime  Laren's  wife  arrived  with  a  young 
lawyer  from  Griffin,  named  John  W.  Wray.  It  was  near 
sunset  when  they  arrived,  and  Wray  at  once  began  ne- 
gotiations to  obtain  bail  for  the  prisoner. 

About  the  same  hour  deputy  sheriff  Jim  Draper  re- 
turned from  a  scout  after  Sillman  and  reported  that  he 
had  disappeared,  but  that  it  was  rumored  that  he  was 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  109 

recruiting  a  desperate  band  to  attack  the  guards  and  res- 
cue Laren. 

This  information  produced  considerable  excitement 
and  caused  the  sheriff  to  double  the  guards  and  organize 
a  reserve  to  come  to  their  assistance  in  the  event  of  an 
attack. 

The  young  lawyer,  John  W.  Wray  (now  a  wealthy 
citizen  of  Fort  Worth),  made  a  brave  effort  to  have 
Laren  released  on  bond,  but  Kentuck  told  him  that  it 
was  too  late  in  the  evening  to  hold  a  preliminary  trial, 
and  refused  to  grant  bail  without  a  hearing. 

"But,  your  Honor,"  said  Wray,  "we  will  place  $1,200 
in  gold  in  your  hands  if  you  will  give  us  the  privilege 
of  guarding  him  at  the  hotel  over  night." 

"Do  you  understand  what  that  proposition  means, 
Wray?" 

"It  only  means,  your  Honor,  that  we  guarantee  his 
presence  in  court  to-morrow." 

"No,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Wray,  that  your  proposition 
spells  bribery;  and  if  it  were  not  that  the  peculiar  situ- 
ation restrains  me  from  giving  forcible  demonstration  of 
my  feelings,  I  would  make  it  a  personal  matter  with 
you." 

"But  I  beg  your  pardon,  your  Honor;  I  have  good 
reasons  to  believe  that  my  client's  life  is  in  danger  from 
the  Vigilance  Committee,  and  I  want  to  make  every  ef- 
fort to  protect  him." 

"On  the  contrary,  Wray,  I  have  the  best  of  reasons  to 
believe  that  Sillman's  gang  will  try  to  rescue  Laren,  and 
I  do  not  propose  to  interfere  with  Sheriff  Cruger's  ar- 
rangements to  hold  the  prisoner.  I  understand  that  he 
has  already  doubled  the  guards,  and  holds  ten  men  in 
reserve." 

"Well,  your  Honor,  if  Laren  is  killed  during  the  night, 


110  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

I  will  not  be  responsible  for  it;  I  have  tried  to  do  my 
duty." 

"No  one  can  censure  you  for  being  true  to  your  client, 
Wray:  And  I  am  also  conscious  of  performing  my  duty 
as  a  State  officer." 

During  this  conversation,  in  the  rear  of  the  old  picket 
court  room,  a  representative  of  the  Vigilance  Committee 
had  his  ear  glued  to  a  crack  in  the  wall,  and  he  listened 
to  every  word.  And  years  afterward  Kentuck  was  in- 
formed by  a  reliable  gentleman  that  had  he  yielded  to 
Wray's  proposition  he,  too,  would  have  paid  the  penalty 
of  indiscretion  with  his  life. 

As  night  approached  Sheriff  Cruger  and  the  guards 
ran  a  chain  through  the  manacles  of  the  prisoners  and 
locked  it  to  a  large  staple  in  the  wall.  Preparations  were 
then  made  to  repel  an  attack  from  Sillman's  gang.  No 
one  seemed  to  suspect  that  the  Vigilance  Committee  was 
rendezvousing  about  six  miles  east  of  town. 

In  the  dusky  hours  of  the  twilight,  sixteen  miles  away 
in  the  valley  of  the  Clear  Fork,  twenty-five  well-armed 
men  on  swift  horses,  led  by  John  Sillman,  rode  to  the 
rescue  of  their  comrade,  John  Laren. 

An  hour  later  the  tramp  of  the  Vigilance  Committee, 
seventy-five  strong,  could  be  heard  on  the  trail  approach- 
ing the  town,  determined  to  visit  summary  justice  on  the 
same  man. 

Like  the  calm  before  the  storm,  the  little  village  of 
Albany  lay  quietly  sleeping  'neath  the  starlit  sky,  while 
the  converging  forces  neared  a  common  goal. 

John  Poe,  one  of  the  guards,  looked  at  his  watch  and 
announced  n  130  p.  m. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  town  the  Vigilance  Committee 
halted  and  sent  forward  a  scout  to  view  the  situation. 
He  returned  and  reported  that  at  that  moment  the  guards 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  HI 

were  all  within  the  house  except  Poe,  who  was  on  the 
opposite  side. 

At  this  hour  a  heavy  mist  arose  and  was  hanging  over 
the  valley.  Taking  advantage  of  a  grove  of  mesquite 
trees,  the  committee  moved  slowly  forward,  and  with 
great  caution  approached  the  guardhouse  for  fear  of 
disturbing  the  inmates.  One  light  shone  from  a  window 
in  the  Shield's  hotel,  where  Laren's  wife  kept  vigil  dur- 
ing the  lonely  hours  of  the  night.  Down  in  the  valley 
of  North  Prong,  west  of  the  town,  a  body  of  horsemen 
were  riding  to  a  grove  under  the  bluff,  where  they  could 
dismount  and  tie  their  horses. 

Up  at  the  guardhouse  Poe  turned  around  and  faced 
the  door,  preparatory  to  announcing  12  o'clock  and 
change  of  guards.  Three  stalwart  masked  men  emerged 
from  the  darkness,  pinioned  Poe's  arms  and  secured  his 
weapons.  Fifteen  or  twenty  more  rushed  the  door  and 
entered  the  house  before  the  remainder  of  the  guards 
could  resist. 

Down  in  the  grove  Sillman  and  his  men  were  tying 
their  horses  and  holding  a  hasty  consultation,  pre- 
paratory to  an  attack  to  release  Laren. 

In  the  guardhouse  sharp,  quick  words  of  command 
were  uttered  by  the  leader  of  the  committee. 

Laren  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  with  his  black, 
flashing  eyes  tried  to  penetrate  the  masks.  The  other 
prisoners  rolled  as  far  away  from  him  as  the  chain  would 
permit,  and  turning  upon  their  stomachs  hid  their  faces 
in  their  arms. 

"Laren,"  said  the  leader  of  the  committee,  "the  time 
has  come  for  you  to  pass  in  your  checks.  You  have  led 
a  dual  life  on  the  range  and  in  resorts  of  the  Flat.  You 
were  associated  with  a  gang  that  did  your  dirty  work. 
Hundreds  of  head  of  beef  steers  were  stolen,  butchered 


112  THE   QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

and  their  hides  thrown  in  a  hole  in  the  Clear  Fork  near 
your  ranch.  You  are  now  under  arrest  for  trying  to 
assassinate  Lancaster.  Suspicion  strongly  points  to  you 
as  the  murderer  of  Wilks  and  Jones,  who  built  your 
stone  fence.  Have  you  anything  to  say  ?" 

"Nothing  in  the  world  to  say  to  your  cowardly  gang," 
replied  Laren.  "You  have  sneaked  up  here  in  the  dark, 
while  I  am  a  prisoner,  chained  and  unarmed.  If  you 
will  free  me  and  hand  me  a  Colt's  45,  I'll  fight  the  whole 
outfit.  And  I  will  assure  you  there  will  be  a  new  leader 
to  appoint  at  the  head  of  your  gang.  But  I  know  there 
is  no  use  parleying  with  you;  go  ahead;  I'll  take  my 
medicine  straight." 

"Well,  Laren,  in  recognition  of  some  of  your  qualities 
when  you  were  an  officer,  we  have  decided  not  to  hang 
you,  but  will  use  our  shooting  irons.  Step  up,  boys,  and 
perform  your  duty." 

Eleven  men  filed  in  front  of  their  leader  and  leveled 
their  Winchesters  at  the  doomed  man. 

West  of  the  village,  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  one  of 
Sillman's  men  was  reconnoitering  when  the  volley  from 
the  detail  of  Vigilantes  crashed  out  on  the  night  air 
and  announced  the  death  of  Laren. 

At  the  same  moment  a  piercing  scream  rang  out  on  the 
hotel  veranda,  and  Laren's  wife  ran  across  the  inter- 
vening space  to  the  guardhouse,  crying,  "They  have 
killed  him !"  She  made  her  way  through  the  crowd  and 
swooned  over  his  dead  body. 

One  of  the  scouts  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  sighted 
Sillman's  gang,  but  before  he  could  report  and  the  com- 
mittee make  a  charge  on  them,  the  wily  leader  and  his 
men  were  in  their  saddles  riding  west  in  the  darkness, 
exchanging  shots  with  their  pursuers  until  they  outdis- 
tanced them  and  disappeared. 


THE  VIGILANCE   COMMITTEE  113 

Kentuck,  sleeping  in  the  attic  of  Jackson's  storeroom, 
was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  the  volley  that  killed  Laren, 
and  rushed  to  the  window  as  John  Poe  hurried  by. 

"What  is  the  racket,  John?" 

"Laren  has  been  killed  by  the  Vigilantes,  Kentuck." 

"But  I  thought  you  expected  Sillman  to  attempt  a 
rescue." 

"So  we  did,  but  the  Vigilantes  arrived  first,  killed 
Laren  and  then  chased  Sillman's  gang  toward  the  moun- 
tains, but  they  were  too  well  mounted  and  escaped." 

"Where  is  the  Vigilance  Committee  now?" 

"Gone  east." 

"Then  there  is  nothing  more  doing  to-night?" 

"No;  it  is  all  off,  Kentuck,  and  you  might  as  well  go 
back  and  turn  in ;  we  will  need  your  services  in  the  morn- 
ing to  hold  the  inquest." 

But  the  suppressed  excitement  was  too  much  to  per- 
mit sleep,  and  Kentuck  dressed  and  joined  the  guard  to 
learn  the  details  of  the  shooting. 

Laren's  wife  was  carried  to  her  room  in  the  hotel  and 
the  corpse  was  laid  out  upon  the  guardhouse  mess  board. 

Early  the  next  morning,  after  Kentuck  had  viewed  the 
remains  of  Laren,  and  rendered  a  verdict  that  the  de- 
ceased came  to  his  death  by  gunshot  wounds  inflicted  by 
parties  unknown,  the  body  was  turned  over  to  his  wife, 
who  secured  a  hack,  and  in  company  with  Lawyer  Wray 
and  an  escort  of  deputies  furnished  by  the  sheriff,  took 
the  trail  for  Fort  Griffin,  where  a  coffin  was  procured 
and  arrangements  made  to  conduct  the  funeral  at  the 
Laren  ranch,  where  a  tombstone  marks  the  grave  to-day. 

The  day  following  the   funeral   Sheriff  Cruger  sum- 
moned a  posse  and  started  in  pursuit  of  the  Sillman  gang. 
But  after  trailing  them  west  100  miles,  the  gang  scat- 
tered,  Sillman  and  two  others   striking  out  across  the 
country  in  the  direction  of  El  Paso. 

8 


114  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Six  years  after  these  events  Captain  Arrington  and 
his  rangers  captured  Sillman  on  the  western  cow  trail, 
brought  him  in  and  lodged  him  in  the  Albany  jail,  but 
while  under  escort  of  the  officers  at  Fort  Griffin  trying  to 
secure  bail,  he  again  escaped,  going  to  Old  Mexico. 

Nothing  more  was  seen  or  heard  of  him  until  fifteen 
years  later,  when  he  came  into  public  notice  in  El  Paso 
as  a  policeman  who  killed  the  notorious  John  Wesley 
Harding.  A  few  months  later  Sillman  was  killed  in 
conflict  with  a  State  ranger. 

In  this  manner  came  the  end  of  two  of  the  desperate 
men  who  made  local  history  at  old  Fort  Griffin. 

John  Laren  was  a  veritable  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde." 
He  neither  drank,  swore  nor  used  tobacco,  and  was  a 
perfect  gentleman  in  the  presence  of  ladies.  But  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  he  took  part  in  some  of  the  most 
fiendish  acts  of  cruelty  in  those  lawless  days.  Many 
things  came  to  light  after  his  death  that  people  were 
afraid  to  disclose  while  he  lived. 

And  now,  reader,  before  we  pass  on  and  become  inter- 
ested in  other  events  set  forth  in  this  book,  and  lest  we 
forget  to  do  justice  to  the  brave  men  of  the  frontier  of 
Texas,  who,  in  the  absence  of  protection  under  the  law, 
were  forced  to  band  themselves  together  for  the  mutual 
protection  of  their  lives  and  their  property,  you  and  I  will 
do  well  to  stop  and  take  an  impartial  view  of  the  work 
of  the  Vigilance  Committee. 

The  country,  at  the  time  of  the  organization,  swarmed 
with  bad  men  composed  largely  of  renegades  fleeing  from 
justice  in  the  older  States  of  the  Union,  who  left  a  bloody 
trail  behind  them  and  came  to  Texas  hoping  to  escape, 
but  generally  ended,  dying  with  their  boots  on,  resisting 
the  officers,  or  reaped  the  vengeance  of  the  Vigilance 
Committee  for  atrocious  crime. 


THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE  115 

Outside  of  the  military  reservation  of  Fort  Griffin, 
where  the  commander  of  the  post  reigned  supreme,  very 
little  authority  existed.  Nominally,  it  is  true,  there  were 
civil  officers  charged  with  enforcing  the  laws,  but,  in 
fact,  without  power  to  carry  them  into  effect. 

When  it  is  understood  that  the  honest,  legitimate  citi- 
zens were  in  the  minority  and  scattered  over  a  large  area, 
while  the  thieves,  robbers  and  murderers  were  banded 
together  and  did  not  hesitate  to  testify  falsely  in  court 
or  waylay  and  kill  witnesses  to  prevent  conviction,  the 
necessity  to  organize  a  Vigilance  Committee  to  rid  the 
community  of  these  lawless  characters  when  the  law  was 
impotent,  at  once  becomes  apparent. 

So  far  as  the  memory  of  Kentuck  extended,  he  did  not 
remember  a  single  instance  of  the  wrongful  use  of  the 
power  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  that  operated  around 
Fort  Griffin. 

But  on  the  contrary,  whereas  before  the  committee  was 
organized  bold  depredations  were  committed  and  no  re- 
dress obtained,  six  months  thereafter  life  and  property 
were  as  safe  as  in  the  most  law-abiding  community  in  the 
East. 

Lynch  law  should  only  be  appealed  to  in  an  emergency, 
when  the  conditions  admit  of  no  choice  between  suffering 
the  effects  of  outrages  or  summarily  removing  their 
cause. 


CHAPTER  VI 


LEADBETTER'S  SALT  WORKS 

The  report  of  guns  and  clash  of  arms  echo  from  the  canyon  wall, 
And  shouts  of  victory  mingle  with  dying  groans  as  foemen  fall. 

A  CHAPTER  OF  THRILLING  EVENTS  AND  NARROW  ESCAPES 
IN  THE  EARLY  DAYS 

Leadbetter's  Salt  Works  was  for  ten  years  the  outpost, 
or,  more  properly  speaking,  the  point  farthest  west  .be- 
tween the  white  settlements  and  the  wild  Indian  country 
of  Northwest  Texas. 

The  works  were  located  on  the  head  of  Salt  creek, 
eight  miles  west  of  the  town  of  Albany,  on  an  old  mili- 
tary trail  that  ran  through  a  gap  in  the  mountain  range, 
used  as  a  common  highway  by  both  the  white  settlers 
and  the  Indians  traveling  to  and  fro  to  the  open  prairie 
in  the  direction  of  Old  Phantom  hill. 

The  works  were  in  a  small  valley,  surrounded  by  rug- 
ged mountain  scenery,  near  a  deep  water  hole,  fed  by  a 
strong  saline  spring,  where  the  water  was  raised  by  a 
force  pump  into  large  iron  kettles  and  boiled  until  crys- 
tallized into  salt. 

The  discovery  of  this  spring  was  traditional  among 
the  Indians,  and  by  reason  of  it  being  a  resort  for  the 
wild  animals,  became  the  favorite  hunting  ground  for  the 
Comanche  tribe. 

The  scarcity  of  the  necessaries  of  life  during  the  Civil 
war,  and  especially  salt,  that  was  transported  a  long  dis- 
tance, made  the  discovery  of  this  spring  by  the  white 

116 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT  WORKS  117 

settlers  a  source  of  much  importance  to  the  Confederate 
forces  in  North  Texas,  and  a  company  of  rangers  were 
stationed  at  the  works. 

Several  families  took  advantage  of  this  arrangement 
and  settled  in  the  little  valley  and  made  a  profit  manufac- 
turing salt  for  the  market.  During  the  closing  year  of 
the  war  all  the  families  returned  to  their  homes  except 
the  Leadbetters. 

Consequently,  there  was  almost  a  continuous  warfare 
between  the  Leadbetter  men  and  the  roving  bands  of 
Comanches.  This  necessitated  the  building  of  three 
blockhouses  within  easy  range  of  the  big  kettles. 

The  importance  of  this  supply  of  salt  was  so  great  that 
the  commander  at  Fort  Griffin  loaned  Leadbetter  a  "six- 
pounder"  cannon  to  defend  the  works. 

But  it  is  not  the  intention  of  the  author  of  this  volume 
to  give  a  history  of  the  series  of  conflicts  that  took  place 
during  the  twelve  years  from  1865  to  1878  at  the  salt 
works. 

Following  up  the  thread  of  this  narrative,  it  will  be 
interesting  to  know  that  the'  details  were  told  by  W.  H. 
Leadbetter  and  his  wife  to  Kentuck  during  his  visits  to 
the  scene. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  a  previous  chapter  de- 
scribing the  operations  of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  men- 
tion was  made  of  Cato,  the  renegade  negro  husband  of 
Indian  Kate. 

Therefore,  contemporaneous  with  events  heretofore  re- 
lated, a  band  of  twenty-five  Comanches,  led  by  Cato, 
attacked  the  salt  works  one  bright  moonlight  night. 

When  attacked  on  this  occasion  Leadbetter  and  his 
wife  and  their  children  were  in  the  blockhouse  used  as 
the  family  residence. 

Mrs.  Leadbetter  loaded  the  guns  while  the  Judge  fired 


118 

through  the  loopholes  at  the  Indians,  who  were  making 
an  effort  to  break  into  the  storehouse  where  the  supplies 
were  kept.  But  by  the  aid  of  a  crossfire  from  the  bunk- 
house  where  the  men  slept,  the  Indians,  after  a  de- 
termined attack,  were  compelled  to  retreat,  carrying  off 
their  wounded,  including  the  negro  Cato. 

The  next  morning,  while  Leadbetter  and  his  men  were 
burying  the  four  dead  Indians,  Lieutenant  Turner,  in 
command  of  a  squad  of  cavalry  and  a  band  of  Tonkawa 
scouts,  arrived  from  Fort  Griffin  on  the  trail  of  the  In- 
dians. Halting  long  enough  to  prepare  a  hasty  breakfast, 
and  feed  and  water  their  horses,  the  troops  pushed  on 
after  the  Comanches. 

It  was  the  second  day  after  the  salt  works  fight,  when 
Lieutenant  Turner's  scouts  discovered  smoke  ascending 
from  an  arroyo  near  Mountain  pass.  Chief  Johnson  and 
two  of  his  scouts  pushed  on  to  reconnoiter.  The  sun  had 
disappeared,  and  a  few  of  the  brighter  stars  were 
twinkling  in  the  sky  when  the  Chief  returned. 

"Comanches  heap  tired;  him  squaws  put  tepees  close 
to  water  hole;  young  warriors  herd  ponies  under  bluff; 
old  warriors  around  council  fire;  no  look  back  and  see 
white  soldiers  on  trail;  white  chief  can  crawl  up;  wait 
till  the  moon  come  up ;  go  down  upon  the  Comanches 
like  mighty  wind — shoot — heap  kill — Tonkawa  scalp  bad 
Indians — ugh !" 

Lieutenant  Turner  listened  to  Chief  Johnson's  brief 
report  in  silence  while  he  smoked  his  pipe,  then  arose 
and  sent  for  the  sergeant. 

"Sergeant  Jones,  put  three  men  on  guard  and  quietly 
pass  the  word  to  the  men  to  roll  up  in  their  blankets  and 
take  a  few  hours'  rest. 

"Johnson,  send  Crowfoot  up  on  the  mountain  to  keep 
a  sharp  lookout  in  the  direction  of  the  Comanches. 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT  WORKS  HQ 

"No  fires  to-night,  Sergeant.  Tell  the  boys  to  eat  hard- 
tack and  jerked  beef  and  wash  it  down  with  water  from 
their  canteens;  have  the  guard  call  me  two  hours  before 
day.  Good-night." 

The  only  sound  that  followed  this  command  was  a  low 
murmur  as  the  word  was  passed  among  the  soldiers. 

Promptly  at  the  appointed  hour  the  lieutenant  and  his 
men  were  awakened  and  the  order  given  to  saddle,  mount 
and  fall  in. 

With  dispatch  born  of  discipline,  these  well-trained 
soldiers  were  soon  ready  for  their  silent  march.  Like 
specters  in  the  weird  starlight,  the  Tonkawa  scouts  led 
the  way  across  the  open  prairie,  carefully  avoiding  the 
high,  rocky  ground  that  would  give  forth  sounds  to  alarm 
the  enemy's  camp. 

Arriving  near  where  the  ground  sloped  to  the  arroyo, 
Chief  Johnson  held  up  his  hand  as  a  signal  to  halt.  The 
Chief  and  the  lieutenant  held  a  brief  consultation  and 
determined  to  send  an  Indian  scout  to  reconnoiter  before 
advancing.  If  the  scout  reported  the  Comanches'  still 
sleeping,  the  command  would  move  on  quietly  until  dis- 
covered, then  make  a  dash  on  the  camp,  and  kill  and  cap- 
ture the  entire  band  if  possible. 

Tonkawa  Charley  was  sent  forward  to  spy  out  the 
situation.  He  was  absent  perhaps  twenty  minutes  and  re- 
turned to  report  all  quiet. 

So  many  phantom  figures  they  seemed,  floating  down 
the  gentle  slope  to  the  edge  of  the  arroyo  overlooking 
the  silent  scene  below.  Almost  incredible  to  relate, 
Turner's  scouts  and  soldiers  approached  so  near  without 
causing  alarm  that  it  seemed  that  even  the  dogs  failed 
to  scent  their  approach. 

The  gray  streaks  of  dawn  were  tinging  the  eastern  sky 
when  the  decisive  moment  arrived.  Advancing  in  open 


120  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

formation,  the  command  encircled  as  near  as  possible  the 
Indian  camp  to  minimize  their  chances  of  escape. 

"Charge,  double  quick!" 

Like  an  avenging  spirit  riding  on  the  wings  of  a  storm, 
the  soldiers  and  Tonkawas  charged  down  the  side  of  the 
arroyo,  shooting,  yelling  and  riding  down  the  surprised 
Comanches  before  they  could  secure  their  arms  and 
ponies.  Those  not  shot  down  in  the  first  onslaught  rallied 
around  their  chief,  and  with  the  courage  of  desperation 
fought  their  way  to  the  mouth  of  the  canyon  and  escaped 
southwest.  The  fight  at  the  camp  did  not  last  over  ten 
minutes,  the  Indians  leaving  nine  dead  and  three  wounded 
on  the  field,  including  the  negro  Cato.  Lieutenant  Turn- 
er and  the  soldiers  dashed  on  after  the  fleeing  Co- 
manches, keeping  up  a  running  fight  for  an  hour  longer. 
The  Tonkawas  remained  behind,  killed  the  wounded  and 
scalped  those  left  on  the  field. 

This  severe  punishment  broke  up  those  moonlight  raids 
for  about  twelve  months,  giving  Leadbetter  and  his  good 
wife  a  respite. 

Not  only  is  "eternal  vigilance  the  price  of  liberty,"  but 
in  an  Indian  country  it  is  the  price  the  settlers  pay  for 
safety. 

Consequently,  notwithstanding  Judge  Leadbetter's 
vivid  realization  from  experience,  of  the  necessity  of  al- 
ways being  on  guard  against  attack  from  his  predatory 
visitors,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  lulled  into  security  and 
relaxed  many  of  the  ordinary  precautions  that  he  had 
always  taken  in  defense  of  his  family  and  property. 

The  months  rolled  by  and  there  was  every  indication 
that  the  Indians  had  abandoned  the  Salt  creek  trail,  and 
Leadbetter  and  his  wife  allowed  their  family  more  lib- 
erty. 

Time  ran  smoothly  along  without  any  unusual  event 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT  'WORKS  121 

until  November.  With  the  help  of  other  ranchmen  Judge 
J.  C.  Lynch  had  established  a  school  at  his  home  ranch 
on  Hubbard's  creek,  and  those  living  too  far  away  to  ride 
to  and  fro  during  the  day  boarded  their  children  with  the 
Judge's  family.  Among  the  little  fellows  that  made  up 
the  boarders  was  Johnny  Leadbetter,  a  shy  child  who  did 
not  take  kindly  to  restraint.  He  had  a  peculiar  habit 
of  wandering  off  by  himself,  notwithstanding  the  admoni- 
tions of  his  teacher  and  Mrs.  Lynch. 

One  evening  he  slipped  away  so  quietly  that  he  was 
not  missed  until  twilight  and  when  searched  for,  no  traces 
of  the  missing  lad  could  be  found.  A  courier  was  dis- 
patched immediately  to  inform  Judge  Leadbetter  and  his 
family  of  the  sad  occurrence,  and  Judge  Lynch  sum- 
moned all  men  on  the  ranch  to  circle  the  home  range  in 
hope  of  finding  the  lost  boy.  It  was  about  midnight  when 
the  courier  arrived  at  the  salt  works  with  the  sad  news. 
And  if  anything  could  have  added  to  the  sorrow  of  the 
bereaved  parents  it  was  the  discovery  by  the  Judge  late 
in  the  evening  of  Indian  signs  down  by  the  creek.  The 
probability  that  their  son  would  be  captured  or  killed  by 
the  redskins  added  a  load  of  grief  they  could  hardly  bear. 
But  there  was  no  time  for  tears  and  lamentations,  for 
there  was  a  remote  possibility  of  finding  him  wandering 
on  the  prairie. 

The  courier  sent  out  from  Lynch's  ranch  was  sent  on 
to  the  Clear  Fork  to  notify  the  Reynolds  and  Matthews 
ranch  people  to  join  in  the  search  for  the  lost  boy  and 
notify  the  commander  at  Fort  Griffin  to  send  out  a  scout- 
ing party. 

After  the  departure  of  the  messenger  for  the  Clear 
Fork,  hasty  preparations  were  made  for  an  early  start 
to  join  the  Lynch  party  at  the  rendezvous  in  Cow  valley. 
And,  notwithstanding  the  anxiety  of  the  Judge  to  be  off, 


122  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

essential  necessaries  must  be  prepared:  Guns,  ammuni- 
tion and  horses  for  the  outfit;  blankets,  frying-pan,  cof- 
fee pot,  tin  cups  and  a  supply  of  grub.  There  were  only 
three  available  men  at  the  salt  works — Leadbetter,  Thorn- 
ton and  Reynolds.  It  was  agreed  that  Leadbetter  and 
Thornton  would  take  the  trail  at  daylight  and  Reynolds 
would  remain  and  guard  the  women  and  children.  There 
was  a  hasty  consultation  between  Leadbetter  and  his 
wife,  then  he  and  Thornton  started  out  in  the  uncertain 
light  to  secure  horses  for  the  search  on  the  morrow.  The 
fact  that  they  were  familiar  with  the  range  and  that  the 
ponies  were  hoppled  out  obviated  the  necessity  of  waiting 
until  morning  to  find  them.  In  the  meantime,  Mrs. 
Leadbetter,  weeping  silent  tears,  moved  listlessly  around 
her  humble  home,  making  the  necessary  preparations  for 
the  journey. 

The  streaks  of  dawn  were  appearing  in  the  eastern  sky 
when  Leadbetter  and  Thornton  returned  with  the  ponies. 
The  light  broadened  and  a  red-purple  hue  cast  a  halo  of 
glory  along  the  horizon  and  the  first  rays  of  the  sun 
made  the  pearly  drops  of  dew  scintillate  like  diamonds. 

It  was  an  ideal  morning,  but  the  beauties  of  nature 
appealed  not  to  the  parents  as  they  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old to  say  good-by. 

There  was  a  hasty  embrace  and  a  smothered  sigh  as 
the  husband  parted  from  his  faithful  wife  to  go  forth 
on  his  sad  journey. 

The  sun  in  his  course  had  risen  above  Kiowa  peak, 
when  Leadbetter  and  Thornton  struck  out  in  a  beeline 
for  the  ford  on  Hubbard's  creek  at  the  crossing  on  the 
old  McKinzie  trail.  The  ponies  being  fresh,  they  urged 
them  on  in  a  brisk  trot  over  the  undulating  surface  of 
the  open  prairie  until  they  arrived  at  the  brakes  of  Hub- 
bard  valley.  Here  the  safety  of  both  ponies  and  riders 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT  WORKS  123 

required  care  in  making  their  way  through  the  under- 
brush of  the  foothills  leading  to  the  valley  below. 

So  preoccupied  was  Leadbetter  with  his  thoughts  that 
he  and  Thornton  had  ridden  ten  miles  in  silence,  and  per- 
haps the  silence  would  have  continued  but  for  the  start- 
ling report  of  firearms  in  the  ring  of  trees  that  bordered 
the  stream.  "Listen,"  said  the  Judge,  as  he  tightened  the 
reins  and  forced  his  pony  to  halt.  Thornton  also  reined 
in  his  pony  and  the  two  kept  a  sharp  look-out  in  the  di- 
rection from  whence  the  sounds  came.  Intermittent  fir- 
ing was  kept  up  for  a  few  minutes,  then  a  man  was  seen 
to  break  cover  and  dash  across  a  small  open  space  to  a 
liveoak  surrounded  by  a  thicket.  As  he  gained  the  shel- 
ter of  the  thicket  three  puffs  of  smoke  arose  from  the 
trees  and  three  painted  warriors  dashed  into  the  opening 
and  began  to  circle  the  thicket.  The  fight  was  on  in  ear- 
nest now,  and  Leadbetter  and  Thornton  forced  their 
ponies  into  a  run,  and  at  the  risk  of  their  lives  dashed 
down  the  steep  hillside  to  the  rescue.  When  within  range 
they  began  to  shoot  at  the  Indians,  who  took  alarm  and 
escaped  up  the  valley.  Hearing  nothing  and  seeing  no 
movement  in  the  thicket,  Leadbetter  and  Thornton  dis- 
mounted and  entered  the  thicket,  where  they  found 
George  Hazlewood  dying  from  a  wound  in  the 
breast.  He  did  not  gain  consciousness  after  their  arrival, 
and  in  a  few  moments  drew  his  last  breath,  and  one  more 
name  was  added  to  the  long  list  of  victims  who  blazed  the 
path  of  civilization  and  made  it  possible  to  build  thou- 
sands of  happy  homes  in  Northwest  Texas. 

Having  no  instrument  with  which  to  dig  a  grave, 
Hazlewood's  body  was  tied  to  Thornton's  pony,  which  he 
led,  and  they  moved  slowly  up  the  valley  to  the  McKin- 
zie  crossing,  where  they  arrived  in  time  for  the  noonday 
meal  which  Lynch  and  his  cowboys  were  cooking  over  a 
campfire. 


124  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

While  sitting  on  the  ground  partaking  of  the  frugal 
meal,  Leadbetter  and  Thornton  related  the  details,  so 
far  as  they  knew,  of  the  last  stand  of  Hazlewood  in  the 
liveoak  thicket.  At  *that  time  no  one  seemed  to  have 
an  idea  of  how  he  came  to  be  in  the  valley,  but  after  can- 
vassing the  situation  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  hunting  horses.  But  later,  it  was  found  that 
Ed.  Tucker,  who  carried  the  news  of  Johnny  Lead- 
better's  disappearance  to  the  salt  works  and,  by  request 
of  the  parents,  rode  on  to  the  Clear  Fork,  had  met 
Hazlewood  returning  from  the  fort  and  informed  him 
about  the  lost  boy.  Hazlewood  expressed  a  determina- 
tion to  join  Lynch  and  the  cowboys  at  the  crossing,  and 
was  on  his  way  when  attacked. 

With  a  mattock  and  shovel  carried  with  the  utensils 
on  the  pack  mule  for  a  like  emergency  in  case  they  found 
the  remains  of  the  boy  mutilated  by  the  Indians,  Hazle- 
wood's  body  was  buried. 

This  sad  occurrence  made  every  one  in  the  outfit  recog- 
nize the  necessity  of  moving  with  more  caution,  and  to 
keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  an  ambush.  If  Tucker  went 
through  to  the  Clear  Fork  in  safety,  they  could  reason- 
ably expect  the  men  from  the  Matthews  and  Reynolds 
ranches  to  camp  with  them  in  Cow  valley  at  sunset. 

It  was  the  close  of  the  evening,  and  the  sun's  fiery 
crest  was  sinking  behind  dark  clouds  when  the  outfit 
broke  camp  in  Cow  valley. 

They  were  now  on  an  elevated  plateau  where 
they  could  see  the  surrounding  country  for  miles  in  all 
directions,  and  it  was  the  part  of  good  judgment  to  halt 
long  enough  to  take  observations. 

It  did  not  take  these  experienced  plainsmen  long  to 
convince  themselves  that  nothing  suspicious  presented 
itself,  and  that  they  must  hasten  if  they  wished  to  ar- 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT   WORKS  125 

rive  at  the  deep  water  hole  at  the  old  Gonzolas  ranch 
before  darkness  set  in.  The  unspoken  question  upper- 
most in  each  man's  mind  as  they  began  to  descend  into 
the  valley  was,  Would  the  Matthews  and  Reynolds  outfit 
arrive  on  time? 

Judge  Leadbetter,  always  in  the  lead,  eager  and  alert, 
halted  on  a  knoll  and  beckoned  Lynch  to  his  side. 

"Lynch,  is  that  not  a  bunch  of  horses  across  Dry 
branch,  near  the  old  bed-ground,  just  to  the  left  of  the 
rocky  ledge?  Your  eyes  are  better  than  mine — take  a 
look.  What  do  you  see?" 

"You  are  right,  Judge,  and  if  my  eyes  do  not  deceive 
me,  they  are  hoppled  out.  I'm  certain  they  are  not  Indian 
ponies  or  they  would  be  loose  herded  by  a  warrior." 

"Then  Joe  Matthews  and  Ben  Reynolds  are  already  in 
;camp  and  we  must  hasten  on." 

Gathering  up  the  reins  they  spurred  on  their  tired 
ponies  down  the  gentle  slope  through  the  broom  weeds, 
in  a  straight  line  for  the  camping  place. 

The  last  streaks  of  daylight  were  fading  and  the  stars 
were  sparkling  in  the  sky  when  they  reined  in  their  ponies 
and  dismounted  near  the  Matthews-Reynolds  camp. 

There  were  greetings  all  around,  the  ponies  unsaddled 
and  hoppled,  and  turned  loose  on  the  grass.  Abundance 
to  supply  the  wants  of  the  inner  man  was  set  before  the 
hungry  men.  When  all  were  satisfied  and  pipes  lighted 
for  the  evening's  smoke,  the  probability  of  the  boy  being 
still  alive  and  captured  by  the  Indians  seemed  to  be  the 
most  reasonable  conclusion  of  the  disappearance  of  John- 
ny Leadbetter. 

Accepting  this  as  a  basis,  plans  were  discussed  for  his 
rescue.  In  the  meantime  Lieutenant  Turner  and  five 
Tonkawas,  including  Chief  Johnson,  accompanied  by  Ed. 
Tucker  and  Luke  McCabe,  arrived  in  camp. 


126  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Being  the  dark  of  the  moon,  it  was  useless  to  attempt 
to  continue  the  search  during  the  night.  Consequently, 
arrangements  were  perfected  by  which  a  guard  of  four 
men  were  selected  to  loose  herd  the  ponies  and  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  for  Indians.  These  men  would  be  relieved 
at  midnight.  By  unanimous  consent  Lieutenant  Turner 
took  command  of  the  outfit. 

The  pipes  had  been  refilled  and  an  animated  discussion 
indulged  in  around  the  camp  fire  relative  to  the  best  way 
to  protect  life  and  property  against  the  marauding  bands 
that  were  continually  preying  on  the  settlers.  Some  sug- 
gested that  the  killing  off  of  the  buffalo,  that  had  been 
so  long  the  Indian's  commissary,  would  end  the  raids. 
Others  favored  the  government's  plan  of  keeping  them 
on  a  reservation,  and,  in  addition  to  the  present  restric- 
tions, to  deprive  them  of  the  privilege  of  sending  out 
hunting  parties. 

During  the  conversation  indulged  in  by  the  white  men, 
that  bronze-faced  old  Indian  warrior,  Chief  Johnson,  sat 
in  silence  with  the  rings  of  smoke  curling  up  from  his 
long-stem  pipe,  without  any  indication  that  he  heard, 
much  less  followed,  the  argument.  He  was  leaning 
against  the  gnarled  trunk  of  a  liveoak  tree.  A  leader  of 
men,  a  brave  and  daring  scout,  Johnson  was  one  of  those 
noble  red  men  who  had  withstood  the  temptations  of 
civilization  and  retained  all  the  manly  vigor  of  his  primi- 
tive race.  He  was  more  than  six  feet  tall,  with  all  the 
easy  grace  of  an  athlete.  It  was  said  that  his  mother  was 
a  Comanche  squaw,  captured  during  one  of  the  early 
battles  between  the  tribes,  who  became  the  wife  of  the 
Tonkawa  medicine  man  Campo.  Be  that  as  it  may,  when 
Johnson  was  a  young  warrior  he  distinguished  himself  in 
a  fight  at  the  Adobe  Walls  and  was  made  war  chief  of 
the  Tonkawa  tribes. 


,v-^-^;^v<.v ..;•;;*•.••••...<••,.  • 
">.'i/-§v^5.f ¥»•!*•:  V!:L.  '>   •• 


CHIEF  JOHNSON.      (Page  126.) 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT  WORKS  129 

The  camp  fire  had  burned  low,  a  faint  breeze  from  the 
south  was  stirring  the  leaves,  when  Leadbetter,  who  had 
the  greatest  respect  for  the  chief's  judgment,  turned  to 
Johnson  and  said: 

"Johnson,  tell  me  what  Indian  think?" 

Taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  tapping  it  lightly 
upon  the  stock  of  his  gun,  Johnson  slowly  arose  to  his 
feet  and  said : 

"White  man,  he  make  heap  chin  music — Indian  no 
much  talk,  him  trail,  him  go  ahead — white  man  him 
great  mind,  heap  powwow,  make  medicine — Indian  scout 
see  bad  Indian  moccasin  tracks,  him  follow,  white  man 
come  behind — scout  see  many  bad  Indians  over  hill,  crawl 
up,  hear  heap  bad  powwow,  come  back  tell  white  man — 
bad  Indians  him  not  see — white  man  him  come  in  night — 
heap  noise,  heap  big  fight." 

The  circle  around  the  camp  fire  now  broke  up,  and  all 
save  the  guard  rolled  up  in  their  blankets  and  were  soon 
asleep. 

Midnight,  change  of  the  guards,  and  the  camp  was 
in  profound  silence,  except  for  that  indescribable  hum 
of  nature  that  pervades  the  night  air  in  a  prairie  coun- 
try; 3  o'clock,  streaks  of  the  morning  light — once  more 
the  camp  was  filled  with  the  noise  of  awakened  men 
preparing  for  a  strenuous  day  of  activity. 

Breakfast  over,  a  hasty  consultation  between  Turner, 
Leadbetter  and  Chief  Johnson,  then  a  hurrying  to  and 
fro,  saddling  ponies,  packing  the  camp  equipment  and 
they  were  ready  to  go. 

On  over  the  prairie,  led  by  Johnson,  they  moved  along 
and  at  each  crossing  of  the  buffalo  trail  they  paused  to 
examine  for  Indian  signs,  and  it  was  noon  again  when 
they  came  in  sight  of  Uncle  George  Greer's  ranch  at  the 
crossing  of  the  old  Overland  trail  on  Hubbard's  creek. 


130  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

For  years  this  had  been  one  of  the  stage  stands  where 
the  horses  were  changed  and  passengers  enjoyed  such 
accommodations  as  the  meager  supplies  afforded. 

The  stage  stand  was  kept  by  Uncle  George  Greer,  more 
as  a  convenience  for  himself  and  neighboring  ranchmen 
than  with  any  expectation  of  a  profit.  Through  this  me- 
dium they  received  their  mail  and  such  supplies  in  the 
way  of  medicine  and  such  articles  as  could  be  conven- 
iently carried  by  the  driver. 

This  gave  Uncle  George  a  wide  reputation  for  hospi- 
tality, which  he  never  failed  to  carry  out. 

Consequently,  when  the  outfit  halted  for  the  noonday 
meal,  Uncle  George  insisted  on  killing  a  fat  yearling 
for  the  occasion. 

He  reported  that  he  had  discovered  fresh  Indian  tracks 
that  morning  at  the  crossing,  but  so  many  cattle  had 
been  there  since  that  no  trace  was  now  visible. 

After  comparing  notes,  all  agreed  that  the  Indians  had 
scattered  into  small  prowling  bands,  over  the  Hubbard, 
North  and  South  Prong  valleys,  with  the  intention  of 
rounding  up  at  some  central  point  with  a  bunch  of  stolen 
horses.  Therefore,  it  became  necessary  for  Lieutenant 
Turner  to  divide  his  men  into  scouting  parties,  and  if 
they  did  not  overtake  any  of  the  Comanches,  they  were 
to  follow  the  trails  to  the  Indian  rendezvous.  This 
seemed  to  be  the  only  plan  to  find  traces  of  the  lost  boy, 
provided  that  he  had  been  captured.  Jim  and  Cal  Greer, 
sons  of  Uncle  George,  joined  the  little  band  led  by  Judge 
Leadbetter,  numbering  five,  including  Chief  Johnson  and 
Sub-Chief  Charley. 

As  the  Judge  was  anxious  about  the  safety  of  his  wife, 
he  was  given  the  privilege  of  pushing  on  to  the  Salt 
Creek  valley. 

Two  miles  from  the  Greer  ranch  Johnson  found  pony 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT   WORKS  131 

tracks  that  he  declared  were  Comanche  signs.  With 
Johnson  and  Charley  in  the  lead,  they  followed  the  trail 
to  the  mouth  of  North  Prong,  where  it  emptied  into  Salt 
Prong.  Here  the  accumulation  of  pony  tracks  indicated 
that  the  band  Johnson  had  followed  was  joined  by  an- 
other band  coming  from  the  direction  of  where  Hazle- 
wood  was  killed,  making  a  strong  force  for  Leadbetter 
and  his  companions  to  attach. 

A  brief  consultation  was  held,  and  although  it  required 
a  detour  from  the  original  route  marked  out,  Leadbetter 
determined  to  follow  this  trail  up  North  Prong  to  see 
what  new  deviltry  the  raiders  were  up  to.  At  that  time 
none  of  the  cattlemen  had  established  a  home  ranch  on 
North  Prong,  although  there  were  a  few  dugouts  at  the 
most  convenient  water  holes  along  the  stream  occupied 
by  the  line  riders  during  bad  weather.  The  Comanches 
left  a  plain  trail  behind  them,  consequently,  Leadbetter's 
outfit  moved  rapidly  up  the  stream  to  a  bend  near  where 
the  town  of  Albany  now  stands.  One  of  the  deepest  and 
longest  water  holes  on  North  Prong  was  located  at  this 
bend.  A  low,  flat  mountain  range  ran  from  east  to  west 
and  came  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  a  dense  grove  of 
trees  and  undergrowth  of  bushes  on  both  banks  of  the 
water  hole.  Necessary  caution  was  exercised  in  ap- 
proaching this  grove  to  avoid  a  possible  ambush.  Con- 
cealed from  observation  by  the  mesquite  trees  growing  in 
the  flat,  Johnson  and  Charley  were  sent  ahead  to  see  if 
the  Indians  were  in  the  grove.  While  waiting  their  re- 
turn, Joe  Batts  and  negro  Andy,  from  the  Snalum  dug- 
out, came  in  sight  and  soon  joined  the  outfit.  Within 
fifteen  minutes  Johnson  and  Charley  returned  and  re- 
ported that  the  Comanches  had  watered  their  ponies  at 
the  hole  and  had  gone  on  up  the  creek  toward  the  divide 
between  North  Prong  and  Salt  creek.  On  this  assurance 


132  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

Leadbetter's  outfit  rode  into  the  grove.  Evidently  the 
Indians  had  ridden  around  the  bluff  and  doubled  on  their 
trail,  for  when  Leadbetter's  outfit  had  watered,  and  rode 
on  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket  facing  the  mountains,  the 
Comanches  came  charging  down  the  valley,  yelling  and 
shooting.  Taken  by  surprise  and  entangled  among  the 
catclaws  and  bushes,  Leadbetter's  men  were  thrown  into 
confusion,  and  each  man  broke  for  cover  and  shielded 
himself  as  best  he  could.  Negro  Andy  was  shot  through 
the  left  arm,  but  fortunately  no  one  was  killed.  Instead 
of  returning  to  the  attack,  the  Comanches  galloped  on 
down  the  valley,  and  swinging  to  the  right  passed  out  of 
sight  in  the  direction  of  the  salt  works.  As  soon  as 
Leadbetter  and  his  companions  could  clear  the  thicket, 
they  rode  up  a  steep  cow  trail  to  the  top  of  the  mountain 
and  dashed  at  full  speed  across  the  divide,  hoping  to  ar- 
rive before  the  Indians  could  attack  the  almost  defenseless 
works. 

When  they  mounted  to  the  level  on  the  table  land,  the 
Comanches  were  in  sight  two  miles  to  the  left,  gradually 
circling  toward  the  works.  By  making  a  dash  in  a 
straight  line,  Leadbetter  had  the  advantage  by  one-half 
mile. 

The  importance  of  being  first  to  arrive  at  the  cut 
through  the  rock  ledge  leading  into  the  salt  works  can- 
yon seemed  to  be  equally  as  well  understood  by  the  In- 
dians as  it  was  by  the  white  men  in  this  wild  race  across 
the  flat  top  of  the  mountain.  Once  over  the  brow  of  the 
mountain  among  the  shelving  rocks,  "one  could  hold 
ten,  and  ten  put  a  hundred  to  flight." 

As  the  converging  lines  of  the  Indians  and  the  whites 
were  drawing  near  the  goal  it  became  evident  that  a  run- 
ning fight  could  not  be  avoided. 

Already  the  Comanches  were  within  shooting  distance 


LEADBETTER'S   SALT  WORKS  133 

of  the  Spencer  carbines  of  the  Leadbetter  party,  but  they 
did  not  care  to  take  chances  on  wasting  ammunition. 
The  Indians,  too,  although  they  unslung  their  rifles  and 
were  prepared  to  give  the  white  men  a  warm  reception, 
were  loth  to  begin  the  fight. 

Johnson,  knowing  the  great  odds  against  the  Leadbet- 
ter party,  said,  "Leadbetter,  me  shoot,  kill  him  Comanche 
Chief.  Bad  Indians  all  stop  and  powwow ;  white  man  he 
go  over  mountain;  bad  Indian  he  no  follow." 

"All  right,  Johnson,  shoot!" 

The  old  chief  raised  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  fired, 
but  the  distance  being  greater  than  his  calculations,  the 
bullet  ranged  down  and  killed  the  chief's  horse.  But  this 
had  the  desired  effect,  for,  during  the  confusion  among 
the  Comanches  that  followed,  the  white  men  reached  the 
cut  through  the  rock  bluff  and  dashed  over  the  edge  of 
the  steep  decline,  amid  a  harmless  shower  of  bullets. 

The  Comanches  gave  up  any  further  attempt  and  de- 
toured  farther  west,  where  the  ground  was  more  favor- 
able for  descent,  and  did  not  return  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
salt  works,  preferring  to  strike  the  trail  higher  up  the 
canyon.  In  the  meantime,  Leadbetter  and  his  men  ar- 
rived at  the  ranch  and  found  everything  safe. 

Mrs.  Leadbetter  had  lived  too  long  on  the  frontier  to 
ask  useless  questions,  and  merely  shook  her  head  when 
asked  if  there  were  any  tidings  from  the  other  searching 
parties. 

After  a  brief  rest  Leadbetter  and  his  men  pushed  on 
to  the  head  of  the  canyon  to  the  final  rendezvous  of  the 
searching  parties. 

It  was  noon  again  the  third  day  after  Johnny  Lead- 
better's  disappearance,  when  Lieutenant  Turner,  the  Ton- 
kawas  and  the  friends  and  neighbors  of  Judge  Leadbet- 
ter, assembled  on  the  open  prairie  where  the  trail  passed 
out  of  Salt  Creek  canyon. 


134  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

No  traces  of  the  boy  had  been  found,  and  all  agreed 
that  the  Comanches  had  passed  out  of  the.  valley  into  the 
open  country,  and,  as  the  outfit  was  not  prepared  for  a 
long  journey,  the  search  was  abandoned. 

The  rocks  at  the  head  of  the  canyon  were  casting  long 
shadows  down  the  trail  when  Bill  Leadbetter  came  in 
sight  of  his  humble  home,  in  the  valley  of  Salt  creek, 
where  for  the  past  ten  years  he  had  braved  the  hardships 
of  frontier  life.  He  could  see  his  wife's  figure  in  front  of 
the  door,  with  her  ha.nd  shading  her  eyes  as  she  looked 
up  the  trail,  and  his  heart  sank  within  him  when  he  con- 
templated the  sorrowful  greeting  of  his  home-coming. 

The  years  passed  by,  but  no  tidings  ever  came  to  the 
parents  from  their  lost  boy,  and  his  fate  is  a  sealed  mys- 
tery to  this  day,  notwithstanding  that  on  one  occasion, 
several  years  afterward,  a  strange  young  man  tried  to 
establish  his  claim  to  being  the  lost  Johnny  Leadbetter. 

Some  time  during  the  year  1879  Judge  Leadbetter 
abandoned  the  salt  works  and  moved  to  his  ranch  on  the 
Clear  Fork  above  Fort  Griffin,  where  his  descendants 
still  live. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE  ADVENT  OF  "TEXAS" 

He  came  from  the  South  like  a  knight  of  old, 
This  native-born  Texan  so  noble  and  so  bold. 

After  remaining  six  months  in  Fort  Griffin,  Kentuck 
was  offered  and  accepted  the  position  of  justice  of  the 
peace  of  Precinct  No.  i,  including  the  county  seat,  the 
embryo  town  of  Albany,  near  the  center  of  the  county. 

This  was  a  town  by  name  only,  consisting  of  three 
picket  houses  with  dirt  tops,  and  a  long,  rambling  barn 
constructed  with  pickets,  by  courtesy  .called  the  court- 
house. 

It  was  July,  the  midsummer  of  Northwest  Texas,  when 
Kentuck  took  charge  of  the  office  and  settled  down  to 
the  humdrum  life  foreshadowed  by  a  lack  of  legal  busi- 
ness. 

About  this  time  there  arrived  in  Albany  a  young  man 
nicknamed  "Texas,"  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  he  came 
from  a  town  in  Southern  Texas,  where  he  was  born, 
raised  and  graduated.  Texas  and  Kentuck  became  fast 
friends  and  boon  companions,  and  for  ten  years  active 
participants  in  passing  events. 

Texas  was  a  whole-souled  young  man,  generous  to  a 
fault;  brave  and  true,  always  ready  to  back  up  a  friend 
or  face  an  enemy. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  on  the  frontier  he  secured  em- 
ployment as  a  cowboy  on  Lyle's  ranch,  where  he  made  a 
host  of  friends  and  a  few  bitter  enemies. 

135 


136  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

A  few  months  after  he  began  work  it  became  generally 
known  that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  ranchman's 
pretty  daughter,  Mollie,  and  that  she  showed  her  prefer- 
ence for  this  bold,  dashing  cow  puncher,  who  accom- 
panied her  on  many  a  wild  race  over  the  prairie.  But 
their  courtship  proved  the  truth  of  the  old  adage,  "that 
the  course  of  true  love  never  runs  smooth."  For  not 
only  did  Texas  have  rivals  for  the  fair  hand  of  the  viva- 
cious Mollie,  but  her  parents,  especially  her  father,  ob- 
jected to  his  attentions.  But  Texas  was  made  of  a  na- 
ture as  true  as  steel.  And  notwithstanding  he  was  dis- 
charged and  told  that  he  could  serve  a  better  purpose  by 
leaving  the  range,  he  remained  in  Albany  in  defiance  of 
the  irate  father  and  threatening  rivals. 

On  more  than  one  occasion  a  casual  remark  made  him 
drop  his  hand  upon  the  handle  of  his  six-shooter  and  face 
his  enemy  with  the  cold  glitter  of  steel  in  his  eyes,  but 
the  kindly  intervention  of  a  mutual  friend  always 
smoothed  over  the  quarrel  that  only  needed  a  spark  to 
burst  into  a  flame. 

The  greater  the  effort  of  the  ranchman  to  break  the  at- 
tachment of  Texas  and  Mollie,  the  more  determined  were 
the  lovers  to  overcome  the  difficulties  thrown  in  their 
way.  Many  were  their  trysting  places,  and  the  hollow  of 
an  old  liveoak  on  the  open  prairie  did  duty  as  post  office. 

One  of  Texas'  most  bitter  enemies  was  Sam  O'Carry, 
Ranchman  Lyle's  range  boss,  who  foresaw  in  a  marriage 
between  Texas  and  Mollie  a  chance  of  being  superseded. 
Consequently,  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  throwing 
out  a  covert  insult  when  Texas  formed  one  of  a  group 
of  men. 

O'Carry  had  the  name  of  being  a  bad  man,  and  it  was 
reported  that  he  had  more  than  one  notch  on  the  handle 
of  his  gun  to  remember  the  demise  of  those  who  opposed 


THE  ADVENT  OF  TEXAS  137 

him.  One  condition  of  the  game  was  in  Texas'  favor, 
and  that  was  that  the  majority  of  Lyle's  cowboys  were 
his  personal  friends,  and  were  sure  to  warn  him  of 
O'Carry's  threats.  Of  course,  instead  of  pacifying  mat- 
ters, the  good  intentions  of  these  friends  only  aggra- 
vated the  situation.  In  the  meantime  O'Carry  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  Texas  was  afraid  of  him,  and  began 
to  push  his  hatred  on  to  the  point  of  action,  no  doubt 
encouraged  by  Lyle  with  the  hope  of  being  rid  of  this 
determined  young  man. 

The  climax  came  one  bright  day  in  the  fall  of  the  year. 
Texas  and  Kentuck  were  returning  from  a  ride  up  the 
valley  of  Salt  Prong,  where  they  had  been  shooting 
prairie  chickens.  As  they  approached  the  old  Indian  trail 
they  saw  one  of  Lyle's  outfit,  led  by  O'Carry,  coming 
across  the  mesa.  Ed.  Zucker,  one  of  the  "flying  buzzard" 
cowboys,  had  informed  Texas  the  day  before  that  O'Carry 
had  boasted  that  both  of  them  could  not  remain  on  the 
same  range — one  would  be  compelled  to  make  tracks — 
there  was  not  room  for  both. 

Before  they  came  within  speaking  distance  Texas 
turned  sideways  in  his  saddle  and  remarked : 

"Kentuck,  I'm  tired  of  this  everlasting  wrangle  with 
old  man  Lyle.  And  especially  I  am  tired  of  the  threats 
of  this  man  O'Carry,  who  talks  and  acts  the  part  of  a 
cowardly  bully.  I  haven't  any  doubt  that  if  he  had  the 
'drop'  on  me  he  would  not  hesitate  to  kill  me  in  cold 
blood.  Men  like  O'Carry  generally  get  their  reputation 
that  way.  But  I  don't  believe  that  he  will  stand  up,  man 
to  man,  and  take  an  even  chance.  Therefore,  Kentuck, 
I'm  going  to  call  his  hand  to-day,  and  if  he  antes,  one  of 
us  will  leave  this  range.  If  it  should  be  me,  old  man, 
send  this  package  of  letters  to  Mollie;  tell  her  how  it 
happened,  then  write  to  the  old  folks  in  Southern  Texas. 


138  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Now,  here  they  come — No,  not  one  word  of  protest,  Ken- 
tuck  ;  my  mind  is  made  up." 

Shifting  his  six-shooter  to  an  easy  position  for  quick 
action,  Texas  rode  deliberately  up  to  O'Carry,  who, 
though  surprised,  dropped  his  hand  to  the  handle  of  his 
six-shooter,  pulled  his  horse  to  one  side  and  stopped. 

Texas  looked  him  square  in  the  eye,  and  said,  "O'Car- 
ry, I  have  an  account  of  long  standing  to  settle  with  you. 
The  longer  it  runs  the  bigger  it  seems  to  grow.  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  now  is  a  good  time  to  close 
that  account.  You  have  made  your  boast  that  there  is 
not  room  for  both  of  us  on  this  range.  Of  course,  you 
must  be  prepared  to  make  good,  for  you  have  a  'rep'  to 
sustain.  The  question  is,  Are  you  ready?"  Then,  ad- 
dressing Kentuck  and  Lyle's  cowboys,  he  continued: 
"Boys,  this  is  not  your  quarrel;  hands  off  and  see  fair 
play." 

O'Carry  had  not  spoken  a  word,  or  even  moved  a 
muscle,  except  to  blink  his  eyes,  as  though  he  did  not 
understand. 

In  the  meantime  Texas  had  dismounted,  and  was  un- 
tying a  silk  kerchief  from  around  his  neck.  The  cow- 
boys and  Kentuck  pulled  their  ponies  to  one  side  and 
watched  the  two  with  anxious  suspense,  for  the  unwrit- 
ten law  of  the  frontier  forbade  them  to  interfere. 

After  removing  his  kerchief,  Texas  once  more  ad- 
dressed O'Carry,  in  a  cool,  deliberate  voice  that  seemed 
to  carry  a  deadly  message  in  every  word : 

"O'Carry,  dismount  if  you  are  going  to  back  up  your 
'rep'  as  a  killer.  Pull  out  your  shooting  iron  and  take 
hold  of  this  kerchief.  I'll  count  three  and  we  will  begin 
to  shoot  and  keep  it  up  till  one  of  us  quits  the  range  for- 
ever." 

It  was  the  tragic  moment,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  on 


THE  ADVENT  OF  TEXAS  139 

O'Carry,  but  he  did  not  move.  His  ruddy  countenance 
became  ashen-gray.  The  silence  became  painful,  but 
O'Carry  seemed  glued  to  his  saddle  and  helpless  as  an 
infant. 

Once  more  Texas'  voice  broke  the  stillness.  This  time 
it  was  one  of  contempt.  And  as  he  looked  with  scorn 
at  the  collapsed  figure  of  O'Carry,  he  said,  "O'Carry,  I'm 
not  going  to  crow  over  a  coward.  Your  conduct  will 
reap  its  own  reward.  You  know  what  it  is  to  show  the 
'white  feather'  on  this  range."  Then,  with  the  easy 
grace  of  the  skilled  rider,  Texas  remounted  his  pony, 
waved  a  farewell  to  the  outfit  and  joined  Kentuck  and  the 
two  rode  on  to  town. 

The  situation  had  been  so  tense  that  neither  was  in- 
clined to  talk  and  they  rode,  the  entire  distance  in  silence. 

News  like  this  travels  fast,  even  in  a  sparsely  settled 
district  on  the  frontier  of  Texas,  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  time  it  was  the  one,  subject  of  conversation  when- 
ever two  or  more  cowboys  met  on  the  range. 

It  was  not  long  before  it  was  known  at  Lyle's  head- 
quarters ranch  on  Hubbard  creek.  There  was  something 
of  a  scene  when  Mollie's  admiration  broke  over  all 
bounds  and  she  openly  defied  parental  authority  and  de- 
clared her  intention  of  marrying  Texas.  Her  mother, 
who  had  secretly  encouraged  her  daughter  from  the 
start,  now  joined  in  the  rebellion.  Old  man  Lyle,  an  ex- 
soldier  and  scout,  was  a  fine  old  Irish  gentleman,  and 
though  he  openly  spluttered  and  fumed,  secretly  admired 
the  bravery  of  his  prospective  son-in-law. 

O'Carry  only  stopped  long  enough  on  his  return  to 
settle  up,  then  joined  a  trail  herd  for  Kansas. 

From  this  time  on  Texas  began  to  grow  in  grace  and 
favor,  not  only  among  the  cattlemen  and  cowboys,  but 
with  the  county  officials,  and  was  appointed  deputy  coun- 
ty clerk. 


140  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  legitimate  population  of  Albany  was  not  more  than 
twenty,  all  told,  though  on  court  days  and  gala  occasions 
it  was  augmented  into  the  hundreds.  Texas  had  become 
very  popular  and  a  leading  promoter  of  all  kinds  of 
amusements  for  the  entertainment  of  the  surrounding 
country.  As  soon  as  he  became  installed  as  deputy  clerk, 
he  began  an  active  campaign  for  a  three-days  tournament. 

This  sport  is  peculiarly  suited  to  frontier  life  and  al- 
ways appeals  to  the  cowboy.  To  him  it  has  all  the  charm 
of  chivalry  that  induced  the  knights  of  old  to  break  a 
lance  in  the  arena,  and  he  thinks  nothing  of  riding  hun- 
dreds of  miles  to  be  present  on  these  occasions. 

It  was  Kentuck's  good  fortune  to  be  placed  on  the 
committee  of  arrangements,  and  for  two  months  in  ad- 
vance the  different  committees  were  busy  making  prep- 
arations for  the  coming  event.  In  the  meantime,  on  every 
ranch  within  200  miles  of  Albany  the  boys  who  desired 
to  enter  the  contest  had  erected  poles  and  were  practicing 
and  training  their  ponies. 

The  star  riders  of  each  outfit  went  into  training  for 
the  coming  contest.  At  least  an  hour  each  day  was  de- 
voted to  riding  at  full  speed  over  a  straight  150-yard 
track,  and  with  a  long  wooden  lance  picking  a  ring  each 
from  five  dangling  wires,  the  rules  requiring  the  con- 
testant to  ride  over  the  course  three  times  and  secure 
ifive  rings  each  time  to  make  a  perfect  record. 

By  common  consent  Texas  was  chosen  a  free  lance,  to 
represent  Albany.  And  almost  every  evening  Kentuck 
watched  him  mount  his  favorite  pony,  a  wiry  little  mus- 
tang that  had  a  record  in  local  races.  Texas  and  Buck- 
skin made  an  attractive  picture,  as  they  raced  over  the 
i5O-yard  course.  With  the  rare  skill  of  a  born  rider, 
Texas  never  failed  to  take  three,  frequently  four,  and 
sometimes  five  rings. 


THE  ADVENT  OF  TEXAS  141 

One  evening  when  Texas  had  mounted  his  pony  pre- 
paratory to  an  hour's  practice,  the  overland  stage  carry- 
ing the  weekly  mail  came  in  sight.  In  anticipation  of  this 
event,  a  crowd  of  ranchmen  and  cowboys  were  lounging 
around  Papa  Barre's  hotel.  When  the  jaded  team  drew 
up  before  the  door,  a  tall,  gray-haired  stranger  opened 
the  stage  door  and  with  rapid  strides  entered  the  picket 
house.  And  though  the  arrival  of  a  stranger  was  an  un- 
usual sight  in  those  days,  beyond  a  casual  glance  no  one 
seemed  to  notice  him.  It  was  only  when  the  driver 
whipped  up  his  tired  horses  and  started  to  the  shack 
known  as  the  store  and  post  office,  that  Texas  spurred 
his  pony  alongside  of  the  driver  and  said : 

"Say,  Bill,  who  is  that  guy  you  brought  over  this  trip?" 

"That's  no  guy,  Texas.  Why,  that's  Colonel  Tolbert, 
from  Fort  Worth;  owns  part  of  the  Lytle  herd  that 
ranges  west  of  Phantom  hill.  He's  going  to  stay  here 
until  the  *chuck'  wagon  comes  over  from  the  ranch  next 
week.  Then  he  is  going  out  there  to  rough  it  for  a  while. 
Oh,  ne's  a  jim-dandy,  Texas — do  to  tie  to,  sure;  plumb 
sociable  all  the  way  over — ain't  stuck  up — carries  a  bottle 
of  firewater  in  his  little  dinky  satchel,  and  it  is  loaded 
wi'th  pison,  good  truck,  too." 

"Well,  if  you  say  so,  Bill,  I  guess  he's  all  right.  He 
looks  like  the  right  sort  to  me." 

Texas  then  wheeled  his  pony  around  and  rode  slowly 
back  to  the  hotel,  where  Dave  Gardner  was  doing  the 
agreeable  by  introducing  the  Colonel  to  all  hands  and  the 
cook. 

Nothing  wins  the  confidence  of  the  free  and  easy  cow- 
boy so  quick  as  a  responsive  spirit.  Consequently,  no 
sooner  had  Colonel  Tolbert  acknowledged  the  introduc- 
tion than  he  dropped  into  the  conversation  without  a  mo- 
ment's delay.  He  neither  took  the  lead  nor  waited  for  an 


142  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

opening,  but  always  said  the  right  thing  at  the  proper 
time,  and  with  agreeable  manner  and  smiling  counte- 
nance. 

There  were  at  least  twenty  present  when  the  Colonel 
capped  the  climax  and  forged  a  bond  of  friendship  with 
the  whole  outfit  by  inviting  them  over  to  Alex  Laslie's 
to  take  a  drink. 

"It  is  my  set  'em  up,  boys,"  he  said  as  he  led  the  way. 

And  from  that  time  hence  for  a  number  of  years  the 
annual  visit  of  Colonel  Tolbert  was  an  occasion  to  be 
celebrated  by  the  cow  punchers  of  the  local  range. 

He  entered  into  all  their  sports  with  a  hearty  good  will ; 
often  tripping  the  light  fantastic  all  night,  notwithstand- 
ing he  was  old  enough  to  be  the  grandfather  of  the  sweet 
sixteen  who  was  his  willing  partner  in  the  dance. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  November  when  the  cowboys 
from  the  surrounding  ranches  began  to  arrive  and  camp 
near  the  town,  preparatory  to  the  grand  tournament. 

Invitations  had  been  extended  to  the  officers  and  men  at 
Fort  Griffin,  and  several  officers  and  their  wives  had  ac- 
cepted. A  bugler  was  sent  from  the  post  to  call  the  con- 
testants together  each  morning  and  noon  and  to  signal 
the  start  of  each  over  the  track. 

The  ranchmen  with  their  wives  and  children  came  in 
covered  wagons  prepared  to  camp.  The  evening  before 
the  first  day  there  were  300  on  the  ground.  Negro  Andy 
and  a  half-dozen  other  negroes  were  barbecuing  five 
beeves  over  a  long  pit  of  live  coals,  and  the  savory  smell 
permeated  the  whole  atmosphere,  whetting  the  appetites 
of  the  people  for  the  delicious  meat  to  be  served  to  every 
one  who  desired  a  piece.  A  large  brush  arbor  had  been 
built  in  front  of  the  old  picket  courthouse,  and  an  Italian 
string  band  secured  from  Fort  Griffin  to  make  music  for 
the  young  folks  who  cared  to  dance  away  the  hours  of 


THE  ADVENT  OF  TEXAS  143 

the  evening.  The  weather  was  perfect  and  a  full  moon 
made  the  nights  lovely. 

It  was  the  evening  before  the  first  day  of  the  tourna- 
ment that  Kentuck  met  Texas  and  Mollie  strolling  along 
the  outskirts  of  the  town.  It  was  Kentuck's  first  intro- 
duction to  Mollie,  and  he  was  well  pleased  to  find  her  all 
that  Texas  had  painted  her  in  the  glowing  pictures  he 
presented  during  their  confidential  talks. 

Mollie  was  a  medium-sized  brunette  and  a  perfect 
specimen  of  a  healthy  maiden,  frank  as  a  child  and  as 
fearless  as  the  most  daring  spirit  that  roamed  the  prairie. 
No  wonder  that  she  captured  Texas,  heart,  body  and 
soul.  Kentuck  could  not  help  expressing  his  admiration 
for  this  sprightly,  vivacious  little  woman,  much  to  Texas' 
delight. 

But  it  was  the  next  morning  when  Kentuck  saw  her 
on  horseback  that  he  became  profuse  in  his  praise.  She 
was  riding  her  favorite  bay,  a  perfect  specimen  of  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Arab  horses  turned  loose  by  the  Spanish 
conquerors  in  the  days  of  Cortez.  The  spirited  little  ani- 
mal had  been  groomed  until  his  shining  coat  reflected 
the  rays  of  the  sun.  He  fairly  danced  in  his  eagerness 
for  a  morning's  gallop.  And  while  the  twitching  of  his 
black,  pointed  ears  and  the  scintillating  fire  in  his  black 
eyes  told  the  nervous  tension  under  restraint,  he  obeyed 
the  soft  spoken  words  of  his  mistress  with  the  faithful 
trust  of  a  child  in  its  mother. 

But  it  was  Mollie  who  captured  the  eyes  of  Kentuck 
and  held  him  spellbound  as  he  watched  her  movements 
preparatory  to  mounting  her  pony.  She  was  no  longer 
the  vivacious  little  maid  of  the  evening  before,  but  a 
queenly  woman,  conscious  of  her  power  to  command  not 
only  the  adoration  of  her  cowboy  friends  but  admiration 
even  from  her  own  sex. 


144  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

Dressed  in  a  neat  habit  of  dark  blue,  with  here  and 
there  a  dash  of  red,  a  red  bow  on  her  hat  and  a  narrow 
red  ribbon  around  her  neck,  brass  buttons  and  red  facing 
over  her  bust,  furnished  the  necessary  contrast  to  com- 
plete a  beautiful  riding  habit. 

Everybody  partook  of  the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  and 
the  entire  camp  ground  was  alive  with  a  merry,  jolly 
crowd  of  men,  women  and  children. 

It  was  8  a.  m.  when  the  bugler  sounded  the  grand  en- 
semble preparatory  to  beginning  the  day's  sport. 

Messrs.  J.  C.  Lynch,  J.  A.  Matthews  and  G.  W.  Greer 
were  selected  to  decide  the  contests.  George  Wilhelm 
was  appointed  timekeeper  and  sheriff  Henry  Jacobs  was 
master  of  ceremonies. 

There  were  nine  entries,  representing  the  different 
ranches,  and  Texas  in  the  capacity  of  a  free  lance  to 
challenge  the  winner. 

It  was  indeed  a  gala  scene,  and  presented  an  animated 
picture  on  that  bright  autumn  morning.  A  rarefied  at- 
mosphere was  tempered  by  a  genial  sun,  and  a  gentle 
breeze  laden  with  all  the  refreshing  purity  of  the  vast 
expanse  of  prairie  made  the  nerves  tingle  and  the  blood 
course  freely  through  the  veins  of  young  and  old.  A 
clear  sky,  a  bright  sun,  a  golden  carpet  of  luxuriant  grass, 
lent  a  charm  to  the  combination  of  color  that  would  have 
tempted  the  brush  of  an  artist,  and  all  the  inspiration  was 
present  to  call  forth  the  muse  from  the  realm  of  poetry. 
Nature  had  furnished  the  foreground  and  background, 
and  it  only  required  the  bugler's  call  to  endow  the  whole 
scene  with  that  dash  of  frontier  life  that  might  have  in- 
spired Frederic  Remington  to  produce  the  masterpiece 
of  the  age. 

The  scene  of  the  tournament,  on  a  small  plateau  over- 
looking the  valley  of  North  Prong,  possessed  all  the  ad- 
vantages necessary  to  the  success  of  the  sport. 


THE  ADVENT   OF  TEXAS  145 

Five  poles  were  set  in  the  ground  thirty  yards  apart, 
making  a  straight  run  of  150  yards.  Six  men  were  ap- 
pointed by  Judge  Lynch,  three  at  each  end  of  the  line 
of  poles,  to  keep  the  time  of  the  starting  and  ending  of 
each  contestant's  run,  and  report  to  Wilhelm,  the  score 
timekeeper.  The  rules  required  the  horses  to  be  ridden  at 
full  speed,  the  time  limit  to  be  not  less  than  thirty  seconds. 
The  contestants  were  dressed  in  close-fitting  jockey  suits, 
with  bright  sashes  representing  the  colors  adopted  by 
each  ranch.  Texas  wore  green,  in  honor  of  Mollie's 
Irish  ancestors.  To  make  the  skill  of  the  knights  more 
difficult  to  maintain,  the  horses  were  unsaddled  and  the 
knights  required  to  ride  bareback.  The  lances  were 
seven  feet  long,  tapering  to  a  sharp  point,  to  allow  the 
rings  to  slide  easily  over  the  point  and  halfway  down  the 
lance.  The  rider  grasped  the  lance  near  the  middle  with 
his  right  hand  and  allowed  the  butt  end  to  rest  beneath 
his  elbow  to  steady  his  aim.  The  rings  were  hung  from 
wires  suspended  from  arms  on  the  posts. 

When  all  was  ready  the  knights  grouped  near  the 
starting  point  and  waited  to  be  called  in  the  order  of 
their  entry. 

The  spectators  were  lined  along  each  side  of  the  tour- 
nament track,  and  made  a  picturesque  setting  for  the 
sport. 

The  prize  to  be  awarded  on  the  first  day  was  a  silver 
mounted  saddle,  valued  at  $100. 

When  all  the  preparations  were  completed  and  the  air 
of  expectancy  hushed  the  babble  of  voices,  all  eyes  were 
turned  to  where  Judge  Lynch,  surrounded  by  the  other 
judges,  were  in  consultation.  Near  by,  to  their  right, 
were  the  guests  of  honor.  Among  them  were  General 
Buell,  commander  of  the  fort,  and  his  wife ;  several  other 
officers,  their  wives  and  accompanying  young  ladies,  and 
10 


146  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

thirty  yards  distant  an  escort  of  thirty  cavalrymen.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  starting  point  were  the  ladies 
representing  the  different  ranches  and  the  few  ladies  of 
Albany.  Groups  of  ranchmen  and  cowboys  were  scat- 
tered on  either  side,  betting  on  their  favorites.  Near 
the  winning  post  were  Chief  Johnson  and  several  braves 
and  squaws  of  the  Tonkawa  tribe. 

Sheriff  Jacobs,  as  a  last  precaution,  rode  along  the 
track  and  admonished  every  one  to  keep  a  safe  distance 
from  the  running  horses,  for  fear  one  might  fly  the  track 
and  run  over  some  one. 

Judge  Lynch  now  stepped  in  front  of  the  judges  and, 
holding  up  his  hand  to  command  silence,  announced  that 
Ed.  Tucker,  representing  the  "Flying  Buzzard"  brand, 
would  lead  off  in  the  contest. 

Tucker,  a  small,  wiry,  swarthy  young  man  mounted 
on  a  black,  prancing  broncho,  rode  to  the  starting  point 
thirty  feet  from  the  first  post,  amid  the  cheers  from  the 
cowboys  of  his  home  ranch. 

The  bugler,  standing  a  short  distance  from  Judge 
Lynch,  was  ready  to  give  the  signal. 

Tucker  discarded  his  hat  and  bound  a  red  silk  'ker- 
chief around  his  head  and,  with  only  a  blanket  and  one 
girth  for  a  saddle  adjusted  his  lance  in  position. 

All  was  now  ready  and  a  hush  of  expectancy  hovered 
over  the  scene.  Judge  Lynch  raised  a  white  'kerchief 
and  dropped  it  to  his  side  and  the  bugler  gave  one  sharp, 
short  blast  on  his  horn.  The  fiery  little  black  sprang 
forward  with  an  impetus  that  would  have  unseated  a 
less  skilled  rider,  but  Tucker  held  the  reins  loose  in  his 
left  hand,  and  seemed  to  guide  his  pony  with  the  pressure 
of  his  knees  clamped  to  its  withers.  He  missed  the  first 
two  rings,  took  the  third  and  fourth  and  missed  the  fifth. 
On  his  second  dash  he  took  four,  and  on  his  last  run 
over  the  track  captured  all. 


THE  ADVENT  OF   TEXAS  147 

Then  followed  Tom  Greer,  representing  the  "Circle 
G"  brand,  who  made  thirteen  out  of  the  possible  fifteen. 

Luke  McCabe,  representing  the  "Bar  M."  ranch  fol- 
lowed and  only  scored  ten. 

Mike  Kegan,  of  the  "Half  Circle  W.,"  dropped  down 
to  eight. 

Bill  Johnson,  of  the  "M.  J.,"  scored  nine  and  his  pony 
flew  the  track. 

Glen  Reynolds,  of  the  "R.  M.,"  tied  Tom  Greer  at 
thirteen. 

Zeno  Hemphill,  of  the  "101,"  marked  up  twelve  to  his 
credit. 

Harvey  Biggs,  of  the  "J.  R.,"  from  Red  Mud,  scored 
eleven. 

Bill  Lasser,  of  the  "X.,"  only  marked  up  ten. 

Charley  Jones,  representing  the  "D.  C,"  was  unhorsed 
after  making  six. 

Roe  Lefflett,  the  champion  of  the  "Pitchfork"  brand, 
came  within  one  of  being  perfect,  having  scored  four- 
teen. 

Jim  Greer,  the  last  on  the  list,  refused  to  run  against 
Lefflett's  score. 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  to  where  Texas  stood  apart 
from  the  crowd,  holding  Buckskin  by  the  bridle. 

Judge  Lynch  then  stepped  forward  and  said :  "Are 
the  people  now  ready  for  the  judges  to  award  the  prize, 
or  is  there  an  unknown  knight  who  would  dare  to  chal- 
lenge the  winner?" 

The  crowd  responded  by  shouting  for  Texas. 

"Then  let  this  unknown  knight  come  forth  to  do  bat- 
tle with  our  champion,  or  else  we  do  proclaim  the  prize 
already  won." 

With  the  grace  of  a  trained  athlete,  Texas  vaulted  to 
the  back  of  Buckskin  and  riding  up  in  front  of  the  judges 


148  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

said,  "I  challenge  your  right,  most  excellent  judge,  to 
award  the  prize  in  this  contest  before  I  have  tested  the 
skill  of  the  winner." 

Then  turning  to  the  crowd,  Judge  Lynch  said,  "Is  it 
your  will  that  this  unknown  knight  meet  our  champion 
in  the  field?" 

"Be  it  so !    Be  it  so !"  they  all  shouted. 

"Be  it  so,  the  people  have  spoken;  take  your  place, 
Sir  Knight,  and  may  the  best  man  win." 

Texas  rode  to  the  first  post,  then  in  a  straight  line  to 
the  thirty  feet  starting  point,  and  instead  of  turning  to 
face  the  track  remained  with  the  pony's  head  in  the  op- 
posite direction  until  the  bugle  announced  the  time. 

Then  the  crowd  witnessed  a  magnificent  feat  of  horse- 
manship. 

With  his  lance  gracefully  at  rest  beneath  his  right 
elbow,  and  grasped  firmly  with  his  right  hand,  he  pulled 
Buckskin  up  on  his  hind  feet  and  swung  him  around  as 
though  on  a  pivot,  and  urged  him  forward  at  full  speed. 

Click,  click,  click,  click,  click — the  five  rings  were 
taken  and  three  seconds  to  spare. 

Twice  more  Texas  and  Buckskin  dashed  over  the  track 
with  the  same  results — a  perfect  score. 

Then  there  went  up  a  mighty  shout  of  exultation,  and 
even  the  stoical  Indian  braves  let  out  a  warwhoop  to 
express  their  approval. 

There  was  no  jealousy  among  those  cowboy  rivals, 
and  with  one  accord  they  rushed  up  to  Texas,  pulled  him 
from  Buckskin  and  lifted  him  upon  their  shoulders,  and 
with  Lefflett  leading  Buckskin,  marched  around  the 
grounds.  Kentuck  turned  and  looked  at  Mollie  and  was 
not  surprised  to  see  the  little  lady  dancing  around  and 
positively  radiant  with  animated  pleasure. 

After  the  excitement  wore  off  the  crowd  broke  up  into 


THE  ADVENT  OF  TEXAS  149 

small  groups  and  the  ladies  repaired  to  the  arbor,  where 
they  began  to  unpack  hampers  of  pies,  cakes  and  deli- 
cacies to  flank  the  barbecued  meat,  bread  and  coffee,  to 
be  served  on  an  improvised  table  in  the  courthouse. 

The  ranchmen  and  their  wives  superintended  the  dis- 
tributing of  edibles,  and  not  one  was  forgotten.  Soldiers, 
cowboys  and  Indians  were  supplied  with  an  abundance. 
Good  cheer  and  good  fellowship  prevailed,  during  the 
entire  three  days'  sport.  There  was  no  conventionality 
and  no  restraint  to  mar  the  free  and  easy  enjoyment  of 
the  occasion. 

After  the  noonday  feast  the  Italian  band  furnished 
music  for  all  who  cared  to  dance.  Others  engaged  in 
impromptu  pony  races  and  games  of  different  kinds. 

General  Buell  and  his  escort,  accompanied  by  the 
ladies  of  the  garrison,  departed  for  the  fort  at  3  p.  m., 
highly  delighted  with  their  outing,  and  promising  to  give 
the  other  officers  and  their  wives  a  chance  to  come  on 
the  morrow. 

Those  three  days  and  nights  tournament  will  live  in 
the  memory  of  Kentuck  so  long  as  he  is  permitted  to 
recall  the  names  of  the  whole-souled  people  who  entered 
into  the  enjoyment. 

From  this  time  on  Albany  began  to  grow  and  clamor 
for  recognition  among  the  towns  on  the  Texas  frontier. 
A  doctor,  a  druggist,  a  blacksmith  and  a  school  teacher 
settled  in  town.  Papa  Barr  purchased  an  officers'  tent 
at  the  fort  and  enlarged  his  hotel  accommodations.  One 
firm  in  Griffin  moved  a  portable  house  from  Denison  and 
established  a  branch  mercantile  house  in  Albany.  A 
cowboy  named  Alex.  Lasley  opened  up  a  saloon, 
and  was  also  elected  commissioner. 

Lasley's  place  was  a  fount  where  the  thirsty  could 
procure  fire  water,  the  sports  throw  dice  and  play  cards, 


150       THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

and  any  wandering  couple  desiring  to  enter  the  state 
of  matrimony  could  have  the  preliminaries  attended  to 
between  drinks  by  calling  in  Kentuck,  who  had  become 
proficient  in  performing  marriage  ceremonies  and  hold- 
ing inquests. 

It  was  so  distressingly  healthy  in  these  days  of  the 
white  man's  preemption  of  the  Indians'  right  of  eminent 
domain,  that  Doctor  Shelton  found  but  little  use  for  his 
profession,  and  spent  two-thirds  of  his  time  hunting  and 
fishing.  Once  in  a  great  while,  as  a  good  lady  remarked, 
he  officiated  at  a  birth.  But  as  a  rule,  his  practice  was 
confined  to  dressing  gunshot  wounds. 

A  very  amusing  situation  grew  out  of  the  young  doc- 
tor's use  of  Latin  terms  in  making  out  his  bill  for  prac- 
tice in  the  sheriff's  family. 

As  there  was  no  money  in  circulation  until  the  sale  of 
beef  in  the  fall,  indebtedness  was  only  settled  once  a 
year.  From  the  time  of  the  birth  of  the  sheriff's 
first  child  in  January  until  the  following  No- 
vember was  ten  months.  So  it  happened  that  when  the 
doctor  made  out  his  bill  the  sheriff  was  away  from  home 
trailing  a  band  of  horse  thieves,  and  the  doctor  desiring 
to  make  a  trip  to  the  buffalo  range,  sealed  the  bill  in  an 
envelope  and  dropped  it  into  the  post  office.  In  due 
time  Sheriff  Jacobs  returned,  and  among  other  mail  mat- 
ter received  the  doctor's  bill.  One  of  the  first  items  that 
claimed  his  attention  was,  "to  one  case  of  obstetrics,  ten 
dollars."  Not  being  a  Latin  scholar,  the  sheriff  was 
puzzled  and  could  not  make  heads  or  tails  of  it,  and  de- 
termined to  investigate. 

About  two  weeks  later  the  doctor  returned  from  his 
hunt  and  Texas,  Kentuck,  Manning,  the  druggist  and 
Papa  Barre  were  present,  when  the  sheriff  joined  the 
group  and,  without  even  saying  "Howdy,"  by  way  of  salu- 
tation, he  confronted  the  doctor  with  the  remark: 


THE  ADVENT  OF  TEXAS  151 

"Say,  Doc.,  I  know  I'm  dead  easy;  most  any  tin-horn 
gambler  can  do  me  up.  I  never  squeal  when  I'm  cheat- 
ed in  a  horse  deal,  but  I'll  be  dadblamed  if  I'm  going  to 
be  hornswoggled  by  a  frontier  sawbones  without  making 
a  kick." 

"Goodness  gracious,  Jacobs,  what  in  the  world  is  the 
matter  ?" 

"Matter!  Well,  that's  cheeky,  after  sending  in  this 
bill." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Jacobs — what's  wrong  with 
that  bill?" 

"Why,  confound  your  cheek,  look  there"  (pointing  his 
finger  at  the  objectionable  item.) 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Jacobs." 

"All  right!  Say,  Doc.,  you  are  a  ringtail-tooter,  and 
no  mistake.  You  don't  mean  to  stand  up  here  and  say 
that  I  got  any  of  them  obstetrics,  do  you?  Why,  man 
alive,  I'll  swear  I  didn't.  And  Josie  says  that  she  didn't, 
and  I  know  darned  well  we  couldn't  have  used  a  whole 
case  of  them." 

"Ha !  Ha !  Ha ! — Excuse  me  for  laughing,  Jacobs, 
but  that's  the  medical  term  for  when  that  bouncing 
baby  was  born." 

"Well,  you  blamed  fool,  why  didn't  you  say  so  in  plain 
English  instead  of  using  that  outlandish  lingo?" 

The  laugh  and  the  drinks  were  on  the  sheriff. 


CHAPTER   VIII 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  AND  INDIVIDUAL 
PRANKS  OF  THE  COW  PUNCHER 

Various  and  strange  were  the  things  the  cowpuncher  did: 
Always  reckless  and  thoughtless  as  a  frolicsome  kid. 

Along  the  pathway  of  the  next  ten  years,  the  whirl- 
wind of  time  drove  the  dust  of  countless  incidents  that 
would  have  been  interesting  reading  between  the  covers 
of  "blood  and  thunder"  novels. 

Nothing  commonplace  ever  happened  in  the  early  days 
of  Texas'  Northwest. 

And,  as  Kentuck  looks  back,  memory  recalls  a  troop 
of  queer  characters,  each  bearing  his  own  individuality 
that  made  him  a  distinct  person  among  his  fellows,  pre- 
eminent for  some  specialty,  that  by  common  consent 
awarded  him  a  name  in  harmony  with  his  chief  char- 
acteristics. 

No  truer  saying  was  ever  uttered  than  "familiarity 
with  danger  breeds  contempt  for  it."  And  the  ob- 
server might  have  added  that  there  is  a  fascination  in 
living  where  the  six-shooter  is  the  only  arbitrator  in 
disputes  between  man  and  man. 

Under  these  conditions  life  was  only  worth  what  each 
individual  valued  his  own  when  called  on  to  defend  it. 

Even  the  most  peacefully  disposed  persons,  like  Ken- 
tuck,  of  a  necessity  in  those  days  carried  his  six-shooter. 
In  fact,  to  be  seen  without  your  gun  was  to  call  attention 
to  the  absence  of  an  essential  part  of  your  makeup.  Like 

152 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  153 

the  excuse  of  the  blind  man  for  carrying  a  lighted  lantern 
on  a  dark  night,  the  six-shooter  was  a  warning  to  the 
other  fellow.  Armed  with  a  Colt's  "45,"  a  stripling 
was  a  match  for  a  prize  fighter,  and  dared  to  contend  for 
his  rights,  notwithstanding  the  physical  bully  who  op- 
posed him  could  pound  the  spark  of  life  out  of  him. 

Ruffians,  as  a  rule,  are  cowards,  and  will  not  take  equal 
chances  in  a  fair  fight.  But  if  they  can  "bullyrag"  some 
effeminate  man  and  take  the  "drop"  on  him,  they  parade 
as  bad  men.  But  even  an  effeminate  man,  armed  with  a 
six-shooter  had  been  known  to  command  the  respect  of 
these  ruffians,  who  would  otherwise  have  made  him  the 
butt  of  their  cruel  jokes. 

Yes,  the  six-shooter  placed  all  men  on  an  equal  foot- 
ing, for  skill  superseded  physical  prowess,  and  a  boy 
could  shoot  as  straight  and  as  hard  as  a  man.  It  was 
also  true  that  a  man  hunting  for  trouble,  though  armed 
to  the  teeth,  could  always  find  it.  Consequently,  it  was 
the  part  of  good  judgment  to  move  on  when  trouble  was 
brewing. 

It  sometimes  takes  a  severe  lesson  in  experience  to 
make  us  realize  the  force  of  good  advice  from  our  best 
friends. 

This  proved  true  and  was  vividly  impressed  upon  the 
mind  of  Kentuck  on  one  occasion  after  having  been  ad- 
monished by  Sheriff  Jacobs  to  purchase  a  "45"  Colt's  re-> 
volver. 

Kentuck,  though  not  a  Quaker,  nevertheless  was  a 
man  of  peace,  and  when  he  was  halted  by  a  bunch  of 
cow  punchers  one  morning  as  he  rode  over  the  trail  from 
Albany  to  Griffin,  he  was  unarmed  and  not  prepared  to 
resent  the  indignities  heaped  upon  him. 

"Say,  'tenderfoot,'  can  you  dance?"  said  a  half-in- 
toxicated fellow  as  he  dismounted  from  his  pony. 


154  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

"If  I  were  in  a  log  cabin  on  a  puncheon  floor,  with  a 
partner  from  the  mountain  district  of  the  old  State,  I 
might  take  a  hand  in  the  sport;  why  do  you  ask  the 
question  ?" 

"'Cause,  you  are  going  to  dance  a  jig;  roll  off  that 
bronc  and  strike  a  lively  gait !" 

"But  say,  I  can't  dance  a  jig !    I ." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can."  And  Kentuck's  tormentor  point- 
ed his  six-shooter  at  his  victim  and  fired  a  shot  close 
to  Kentuck's  head  to  accelerate  his  movements. 

The  other  cow  punchers  in  the  bunch  sat  astride  of 
their  ponies  and  grinned. 

There  being  no  way  of  escape,  he  was  forced  to  keep 
time  to  the  music  of  the  cow  puncher's  six-shooter,  which 
produced  queer  sensations  and  much  perspiration.  But 
when  his  tormentor  had  emptied  his  gun,  the  trying  ordeal 
was  finished,  and  Kentuck,  almost  finished  from  exhaus- 
tion, was  permitted  to  remount  his  pony  amid  the  roar 
of  laughter  that  followed  his  departure. 

Kentuck  did  not  mention  this  incident  to  his  friends, 
but  as  soon  as  he  arrived  in  Griffin  purchased  a  Colt's 
45,  a  belt,  scabbard  and  a  box  of  cartridges,  realizing 
that  there  was  neither  time  to  purchase  nor  borrow  when 
a  man  needed  a  six-shooter. 

But  thanks  to  cool  reflection  and  better  judgment, 
neither  provocation  nor  occasion  compelled  Kentuck  to 
defend  himself,  though  there  were  times  when  his 
Colt's  45  produced  a  feeling  of  security. 

PRESERVING  THE  DIGNITY  OF  THE  COURT. 

By  slow  degrees  the  courts  began  to  show  some  sem- 
blance of  authority,  and  the  local  officers,  supported  by 
the  government  and  State  troops,  made  some  inroads  on 
the  dens  of  vice. 


DANCING  TO  SIX-SHOOTER  TIME.       (Page  154.) 


AMUSING   INCIDENTS  157 

The  first  district  court  held  in  Shackelford  county  oc- 
cupied the  old  picket  barn  on  the  square,  and  the  grand 
jury  sat  in  the  open  air  under  a  liveoak  tree. 

Judge  Ousterhouse  represented  the  dignity  of  the 
whole  court,  and  notwithstanding  his  strenuous  efforts 
to  maintain  it,  at  times  he  was  forced  to  relax  and  par- 
take of  the  free  and  easy  spirit  of  his  surroundings.  Es- 
pecially, when  calling  the  docket,  his  sense  of  humor 
arose  to  the  surface  when  the  list  of  nom  de  plumes  ap- 
peared, without  a  single  legitimate  name  among  them. 

Kentuck  stood  at  the  front  door  one  morning  and 
heard  the  judge  call  the  names :  "Hurricane  Bill,  Hur- 
ricane Minnie,  Stovepipe  Joe,  Black  Joe,  Dutch  John, 
Shorty  Collins,  Sheeny  Mary,  Indian  Kate,  Snaky  Jim," 
and  the  judge  paused  for  a  moment  and  added,  "and 
other  vagabonds." 

One  of  the  amusing  incidents  of  the  judge's  attempt 
to  enforce  the  law  at  this  term  of  the  court  was  when 
he  imposed  a  fine  upon  Uncle  Billy  Wilson,  an  old  forty- 
niner  who  had  been  summoned  to  appear  as  a  witness  in 
a  case  against  Andy  Brownlee  for  murder. 

When  the  case  was  called  for  trial  the  State  filed  a 
motion  for  a  continuance,  setting  up  the  absence  of  an 
important  witness,  one  Billy  Wilson,  whose  evidence 
was  material,  upon  which  the  prosecution  relied  for  a 
conviction.  The  exhibit  of  the  sheriff's  return  showed 
that  Uncle  Billy  had  been  duly  summoned,  but  had 
failed  or  refused  to  attend. 

The  judge  entered  a  fine  of  $50  against  the  absent  wit- 
ness and  ordered  an  attachment  for  his  arrest,  to  be  re- 
turned on  the  fourth  day  of  the  term.  In  the  meantime 
one  of  Uncle  Billy's  friends  informed  him.  With  all 
the  cunning  resource  of  his  Irish  wit,  Uncle  Billy  fixed 
up  an  ingenious  plan  to  deceive  the  judge  and  save  the 


158  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

$50.  Dodging  the  deputy  who  came  to  Griffin  to  attach 
him,  he  secured  a  buckboard  and  a  pair  of  Spanish  mules 
and  drove  to  Albany  to  make  his  excuse.  When  within 
a  mile  of  the  town  he  stopped,  pulled  off  his  right  shoe 
and  carefully  swathed  his  right  foot  and  leg  to  the  knee 
in  a  thick  bandage.  And  when  he  arrived  with  a  cane 
previously  prepared,  he  presented  all  the  appearance  of 
a  serious  injury  that  entitled  him  to  the  clemency  of  the 
court.  Apparently  so  painful  were  his  efforts  to  alight 
from  the  buckboard,  Texas  assisted  him. 

Uncle  Billy  had  timed  his  arrival  in  Albany  when  court 
had  opened  the  next  morning  after  he  had  been  fined. 
Consequently,  he  had  quite  a  sympathizing  audience 
when  he  entered  the  door  and  painfully  made  his  way  to 
the  judge's  stand.  With  seeming  great  effort  he  man- 
aged to  confront  his  Honor  by  steadying  himself  with 
the  aid  of  a  chair,  and  with  a  distressed  look  on  his  face 
addressed  the  court: 

"May  it  plaze  yez,  Mister  Jidge,  I'm  sufferin'  from 
a  bad  tumble  down  the  back  stairs  of  me  shanty,  a  trying 
fur  to  help  Biddy  wid  the  week's  washing — bad  cess  to 
the  soapsuds,  says  I,  for  they  sloshed  all  over  the  steps, 
Jidge,  and  Biddy,  the  tub  and  meself  mixed  up  in  a 
shindy  that  smashed  me  leg  over  the  ash-hopper,  and  if 
ever  I  get  over  it,  Jidge,  sure  and  I'll  be  a  cripple  for  life. 
And,  Jidge,  wid  all  this  pain  and  misery,  when  I  heard 
that  yez  fined  me,  I  says,  it's  yez  boundin'  duty,  Billy 
Wilson,  to  hitch  up  the  bronchos  and  drive  out  to  Al- 
bany and  tell  the  Jidge  the  truth,  and  throw  yezself  on 
the  mercy  of  the  court.  Far  be  it  from  the  intention  of 
Billy  Wilson,  Jidge,  to  shirk  his  lawful  duty,  and  I  hope 
yez  Honor  will  remember  Biddy  and  the  childers  and  re- 
mit me  fine." 

"Well,  Mr.  Wilson,"  replied  the  judge,  "I  think  you 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  159 

have  a  sufficient  if  not  a  legal  excuse,  and  I  will  set  aside 
the  fine,  and  as  neither  the  State  nor  defendant  is  ready 
for  trial,  will  continue  this  case  until  the  next  term." 

"Thank  yez,  Jidge;  may  yez  shadow  niver  grow  less, 
and  may  Mistress  Jidge  and  all  the  little  Jidges  live  long 
and  die  happy." 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Wilson,"  said  the  judge,  "you  are 
excused."  And  with  many  a  groan  Uncle  Billy  hobbled 
along  to  the  door  and  disappeared. 

Joe  Batts  met  him  on  his  way  to  Griffin  singing  an 
Irish  ditty  and  his  leg  in  normal  condition. 

It  was  a  standing  joke  for  many  years  that  Uncle 
Billy's  Irish  wit  won  a  legal  victory  by  playing  on  the 
judge's  credulity. 

Among  the  various  charges  submitted  to  the  grand 
jury  by  the  judge  was  that  gambling  was  reported  to  be 
prevalent  in  the  county  and  that  it  was  the  sworn  duty 
of  the  members  of  so  august  a  body  to  investigate,  and, 
if  sufficient  evidence  existed,  to  find  bills  of  indictment 
against  the  offenders. 

By  common  consent  the  judge  appointed  one  Frank 
Clampitt  foreman  of  the  jury.  Among  the  conscientious 
members  was  Uncle  Joe  Matthews. 

After  several  days'  deliberation  without  results,  and 
no  prospects  of  finding  any  indictments,  the  judge  de- 
cided to  discharge  the  jury  the  next  day,  and  admonished 
them  to  finish  up  the  business  before  them. 

During  the  entire  day,  prior  to  the  time  when  they 
were  to  be  discharged,  the  other  members  had  noticed 
that  Uncle  Joe  seemed  to  be  very  much  troubled,  as 
though  not  satisfied  with  the  proceedings. 

And  as  the  time  approached  to  file  into  the  presence 
of  the  judge  he  began  to  fidget  and  shook  his  head, 
as  if  overcome  with  the  weight  of  responsibility,  he  arose 
and  said: 


160  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"Say,  Frank,  didn't  the  judge  say  that  we  was  to  in- 
vestigate into  gambling  in  the  county?" 

"Sure  he  did,  Uncle  Joe,  but  we  just  can't  start  any 
investigation  at  this  time.  It  would  be  manifestly  unjust 
to  some  members  of  this  grand  jury  to  spring  an  investi- 
gation without  any  warning." 

"But,  Frank,  under  our  oaths  it  seems  to  me  that  we 
are  bound  to  follow  the  judge's  instructions." 

"Under  ordinary  circumstances,  you  are  right,  but 
there  are  conditions  mixed  up  with  our  duties  that  makes 
'self  preservation  the  first  law  of  nature/  and  greater 
than  the  judge.  And  in  this  condition  this  jury  is  now 
placed,  for  it  would  not  be  fair  to  the  foreman  to  start 
an  investigation." 

"Well,  Frank,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it,  I  guess 
you  are  plumb  right." 

And  the  first  grand  jury  adjourned  without  following 
the  judge's  instructions. 

DANGER  IN  THE  DARK 

The  attendance  on  the  spring  term  of  the  district  court 
of  Shackelford  county  in  the  year  1878  necessitated  the 
erection  of  a  tent  annex  to  the  Hotel  de  Barre,  to  accom- 
modate the  guests.  Papa  Barre  made  a  flying  trip  to 
Fort  Griffin  and  negotiated  with  the  commissary  depart- 
ment for  a  wall  tent  twenty  feet  square. 

The  hotel  proper  was  a  two-room  picket  house  with 
dirt  top.  One  room  was  used  for  kitchen  and  dining 
room  combined,  and  the  other  was  for  the  office  and 
sleeping  apartment.  Consequently,  the  addition  of  a 
tent  gave  the  hotel  a  swell  appearance  especially  after 
prairie  hay  was  scattered  over  the  ground  to  make  a 
mattress  for  the  spread  of  blankets.  A  few  canvas 
cots  for  the  judge,  lawyers  and  ranch  owners  lined  the 
walls  of  the  tent. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  161 

When  all  was  complete  Papa  and  Mamma  Barre  sat 
down  upon  a  bench  and  dipped  snuff  out  of  the  same 
bottle  and  smiled. 

Among  those  who  occupied  the  tent  the  first  night  were 
Texas,  Kentuck  and  Col.  John  N.  Simpson,  owner  of 
a  ranch  in  Taylor  county,  where  the  city  of  Abilene  now 
stands. 

The  presence  of  Colonel  Simpson  (president  of  a  Dallas 
bank,  and  erstwhile  candidate  for  Governor  on  the  Re- 
publican ticket)  will  make  the  incident  that  happened 
that  night  in  the  canvas  annex  of  more  than  ordinary  in- 
terest to  the  readers. 

When  all  had  retired  and  the  primitive  light,  composed 
of  a  twisted  rag  in  a  bowl  of  tallow  resting  upon  a  pine 
box  in  the  center  of  the  tent,  cast  a  sickly,  smoky 
light  over  the  sprawling  guests,  a  snoring  concert  pro- 
claimed all  were  asleep. 

The  one  lone  cock  guarding  a  half-dozen  hens  in  a 
near-by  mesquite  announced  in  clarion  tones  that  the 
midnight  hour  had  arrived,  and  save  for  the  grunts  and 
snores  from  within,  all  was  quiet  at  the  Hotel  de  Barre. 

Now  and  then  the  lull  in  the  wind  permitted  the  sounds 
of  hilarity  to  float  across  the  public  square  from  Alex 
Lasley's  saloon  where  some  belated  cow  punchers  were 
celebrating. 

Papa  and  Mamma  Barre  had  retired  to  the  inner 
depths  of  the  picket  house  with  a  clear  conscience,  to 
obtain  much  needed  rest. 

No  one  was  awake  to  sound  a  note  of  alarm  when  the 
staggering  form  of  Mike  Kegan  pulled  aside  the  flap  of 
the  tent  and  observed  the  situation  from  the  magnifying 
influence  of  whisky  in  his  fuddled  brain. 

"That's  (hie)  a  h — 11  of  a  layout — wonder  if  they  died 
with  their  boots  on?  (hie.)  Maybe  ain't  dead  (hie); 

11 


162  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

guess  I'll  shoot  'em  up  and  see  if  they'll  kick;  (hie)  just 
punch  a  hole  in  that  darned  fizzling  thing  in  the  washpan 
(hie)  ;  looks  like  a  firebug  (hie)  ;  shoot  him  on  the  wing 
'fore  he  gits  away." 

And  there  was  a  flash  and  an  explosion  that  created 
an  exciting  commotion,  followed  by  an  acrobatic  per- 
formance excelling  anything  ever  pulled  off  in  a  circus 
ring. 

The  guests  in  the  Hotel  de  Barre  annex  arose  as  one 
man  and  made  a  dash  for  the  open  air  without  standing 
on  the  order  of  their  going,  some  of  them  performing  re- 
markable stunts. 

John  N.  Simpson,  opposite  to  the  "wild  and  woolly" 
Mike,  sat  up  so  suddenly  that  his  cot  turned  over  end- 
wise and  he  had  rolled  under  the  tent  wall  before  he 
realized  what  happened. 

Texas  and  Kentuck  collided  as  they  attempted  to 
arise,  and  rolled  over  each  other  in  their  efforts  to  es- 
cape. 

There  was  an  excited  scramble  among  the  cow  punch- 
ers lying  on  the  ground  before  they  could  sabe  the  situa- 
tion. 

"Lasso  that  infernal  fool !"  shouted  Papa  Barre,  as  he 
rushed  into  the  tent. 

"Noap,  they  ain't  dead  ones  (hie) — call  that  a  regular 
stampede,"  said  Mike. 

"Gimme  that  gun,  you  sneaking  coyote!"  yelled  Dick 
McAnulty,  as  he  grabbed  Mike  by  the  collar  and  stuck 
a  six-shooter  under  his  nose. 

"Yer  (hie)  needn't  talk  so  loud,  pard,  I  ain't  deaf 
(hie),  but  being's  you're  so  particular  'bout  it  (hie), 
here's  the  old  gun — the  layout  weren't  dead  nohow,  were 
they,  pard?" 

The  disarmament  of  Mike  restored  order,  the  guests 


??*Bs*PS "••-  " 


When  the  cowpunchers  came  to  town.    (Page  162.) 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  165 

returned  to  the  annex,  and  normal  conditions  once  more 
prevailed. 

AN  EMBARRASSING  SITUATION 

We  are  told  that  "variety  is  the  spice  of  life,"  and  after 
a  few  months'  experience  in  the  office  of  justice  of  the 
peace,  Kentuck  was  prepared  to  acknowledge  the  truth  of 
the  adage,  in  so  far  as  circumstances  developed  conflict- 
ing emotions  between  a  sense  of  duty  under  the  law  and 
the  necessity  of  conforming  with  local  conditions. 

The  enforcement  of  the  law  on  the  frontier  always 
seemed  to  have  an  elastic  application,  and  was  sometimes 
stretched  to  the  limit  and  at  other  times  contracted  to 
its  minimum. 

But  thanks  to  an  accommodating  Vigilance  Commit- 
tee, very  few  felony  cases  came  up  for  examination,  for 
the  good  reason  that  the  corpus  delicti  and  the  victim 
were  buried  in  the  same  grave. 

Consequently,  Kentuck  was  often  tempted  to  resign 
and  make  an  application  to  some  ranchman  for  the  posi- 
tion of  cow  puncher  rather  than  depend  upon  the  uncer- 
tain fees  of  his  office.  But  his  good-humored  constitu- 
ency held  out  the  tempting  bait  that  the  duties  and  the 
fees  would  increase  in  proportion  to  the  increase  in  pop- 
ulation in  the  near  future. 

In  the  meantime  "Dan  Cupid"  got  busy  and  produced 
conditions  that  called  for  the  services  of  the  J.  P.  to  per- 
form the  marriage  ceremony. 

In  this  connection  it  may  be  interesting  to  relate  the 
embarrassing  situation  that  confronted  Kentuck  at  Uncle 
George  Greer's  ranch  in  the  fall  of  1879.  The  occasion 
was  the  marriage  -of  Tom  Greer  to  Bettie  Lafflet  and 
Roe  Lafflet  to  Annie  Greer. 

The  importance  of  this  event  in  such  a  sparsely  settled 


166  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

district  can  be  better  appreciated  when  one  is  informed 
that  all  the  cowboys  on  the  range  had  taken  a  day  off  to 
celebrate  the  wedding.  About  200  men  and  a  half-dozen 
women  were  at  the  ranch  when  Kentuck  arrived. 

Having  been  notified  a  week  in  advance,  the  J.  P.  care- 
fully prepared  and  committed  to  memory  an  impressive 
ceremony,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  it  had  been  arranged 
to  marry  both  couples  at  the  same  time. 

The  small  proportions  of  Uncle  George's  ranch  house 
were  not  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  it  was  decided  to  per- 
form the  ceremony  in  the  open  air.  In  the  meantime 
Grandma  Greer  and  the  visiting  ladies  were  busy  assist- 
ing the  brides  to  dress.  But  as  Bobby  Burns  said,  "the 
best  laid  plans  o'  mice  and  men  gang  aft  aglee,"  and  so 
it  proved  on  this  occasion. 

One  of  the  most  ludicrous  incidents  imaginable  hap- 
pened while  the  preparations  for  the  ceremony  were  in 
progress. 

As  the  hour  drew  nigh  Grandma  Greer  grew  nervous 
and  unwittingly  was  the  innocent  cause  of  a  domestic  ex- 
plosion that  came  near  upsetting  all  previous  arrange- 
ments, and  did  scatter  decorum  on  the  wings  of  hilarious 
laughter. 

Uncle  George  was  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  gen- 
erous of  men  upon  God's  green  footstool,  and  on  this 
occasion  was  very  busy  looking  after  the  comfort  of  his 
guests.  He  was  here,  there  and  everywhere,  bidding  the 
boys  welcome,  supplying  stake  ropes,  furnishing  tobacco 
and  matches,  and  doing  everything  in  the  line  of  hos- 
pitality in  harmony  with  his  long  established  reputation. 

When  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  more  that  he  could 
do  on  the  outside  he  entered  the  house  where  the  ladies 
were  busy,  and  where  Kentuck  sat  in  one  corner  silently 
going  through  a  mental  rehearsal  of  the  previously  pre- 
pared marriage  ceremony. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  167 

As  so  often  happens  in  well  regulated  families,  the 
pride  of  Grandma  Greer  was  too  strong  for  the  objec- 
tions of  Uncle  George,  and  he  was  hustled  off  into  the 
shed  room  to  put  on  a  clean  outfit  of  clothes,  including 
under  garments  and  a  white  shirt.  In  her  haste  the  good 
wife  grabbed  out  of  a  drawer  what  she  supposed  to  be 
the  necessary  garments,  but  what  proved  to  be  a  domestic 
bomb. 

Perhaps  five  minutes  elapsed  when  those  inside  and 
outside  were  electrified  by  an  eruption  from  the  crater 
of  Uncle  George's  profanity.  The  cuss  words  became 
loud  and  vigorous,  shutting  off  the  buzz  of  conversation 
and  causing  a  general  rush  to  the  little  shed  room  where 
Uncle  George  was  engaged  in  executing  a  war  dance. 

What  the  boys  saw  can  better  be  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. In  the  middle  of  the  room  was  the  irate  old 
gentleman  in  an  abbreviated  nether  garment,  holding  at 
arm's  length  a  pair  of  lady's  unmentionables  and  gazing 
at  them  with  supreme  disgust,  trying  to  explain  between 
cuss  words,  to  Grandma  Greer,  who  hurried  in,  that  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  wear  them  and  retain  his  self 
respect. 

Nothing  but  the  free  and  easy  good  fellowship  char- 
acteristic of  the  frontier  saved  the  situation.  Everybody 
laughed  until  their  sides  ached.  But,  during  the  hubbub, 
Kentuck's  prepared  ceremony  escaped  his  memory  and 
he  was  left  to  stagger  through  the  service. 

Of  all  the  unique  characters  that  ever  lived  on  the 
frontier  of  Texas,  George  W.  Greer  was  without  an 
equal.  Small,  wiry,  without  a  pound  of  surplus  flesh,  he 
was  gifted  with  a  superabundance  of  energy  that  he 
worked  off  to  a  good  advantage  on  his  cattle  ranch. 

And  right  here  is  an  excellent  opportunity  to  gain  an 
insight  into  the  peculiar  humor  of  the  old  gentleman.  It 


168  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

has  been  reported  that  on  one  occasion  the  commander 
at  Fort  Griffin  sent  a  small  escort  of  cavalry  with  the 
paymaster  on  his  way  to  Fort  Clark. 

Lieutenant  Fred,  now  Gen.  Frederick  D.  Grant,  was 
detailed  to  command  the  soldiers.  The  first  day's  march 
they  camped  over  night  at  the  crossing  of  Hubbard  creek 
near  Uncle  George's  ranch  house.  Being  used  to  ex- 
tending hospitality  on  a  large  scale,  he  invited  the  whole 
outfit,  consisting  of  ten  soldiers  and  the  two  officers,  to 
partake  of  the  evening  meal.  And  though  the  officers 
mildly  protested  that  the  soldiers  were  prepared  to  cook, 
they  accepted,  and  all  marched  up 'to  the  house  for  their 
supper.  With  the  assistance  of  several  cowboys, 
Mother  Greer  soon  prepared  an  appetizing  meal  of  warm 
corn  bread,  coffee  and  a  dish  of  fried  potatoes  and  fresh 
meat. 

When  all  was  ready  Uncle  George  invited  them  to  the 
table,  when  the  following  amusing  colloquy  occurred: 

"Walk  in,  gents,  and  be  seated." 

"But,  Mr.  Greer,"  protested  Lieutenant  Grant,  "the 
soldiers  can  wait  until  your  family  and  the  officers  are 
served." 

"Well,  I'll  be  hornswoggled  if  they  do." 

"But,  Mr.  Greer,  the  regulations  of  the  army " 

"The  regulations  of  your  old  Yankee  army  be  damned ! 
See  here,  Mr.  Lieutenant,  if  anybody  waits  for  a  second 
table,  you  dude  officers  can  take  a  back  seat  and  watch 
the  balance  eat." 

The  Lieutenant  blushed  and  looked  embarrassed,  but 
the  Major,  who  was  an  old  campaigner,  smiled  and  said, 
"Come  on,  boys,  we  will  go  in  and  clean  up  the  grub 
while  the  Lieutenant  waits." 

Grant  saw  the  humor  in  the  situation  and  joined  in  the 
laugh  that  followed. 


UNCLE  GEORGE  GREEK.    (Page  168.) 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  171 

THE  BRANDING  PENS. 

To  relieve  the  monotonous  existence  that  fell  to  the  lot 
of  the  county  officials  who  were  called  on  to  perform  the 
legal  duties  in  the  newly  organized  county  of  Shackle- 
ford,  Texas  and  Kentuck  were  willing  to  accept  any 
diversion  that  promised  to  fill  in  the  time  that  was  other- 
wise very  dull. 

Consequently,  the  marking  and  branding  of  cattle  or 
a  roundup  within  reasonable  distance  commanded  their 
presence. 

And  it  frequently  happened  that  the  desire  to  lend  a 
hand  was  so  strong  in  Texas'  makeup  that  he  often 
mounted  a  trained  bronco  and  helped  to  rope  the  animals. 

After  the  grass  matured  sufficiently  in  the  summer  to 
justify  moving  cattle,  Jess  Ellison's  outfit  drove  a  large 
herd  through  Albany  to  the  home  ranch  on  North  Prong. 
Texas  and  Kentuck  mounted  their  ponies  and  followed 
them  to  the  branding  pen,  to  see  the  year's  crop  of  calves 
marked  and  branded. 

When  they  arrived  Ellison  had  already  prepared  for 
the  day's  work  and  placed  the  cattle  under  close  herd 
near  the  corrals,  where  a  certain  number  could  be  cut  out 
and  driven  in  without  crowding. 

The  fire  was  already  making  a  good  bed  of  coals  be- 
tween the  logs  where  the  "J.  E."  irons  were  being  heated 
ready  to  decorate  the  hips  of  the  unfortunate  calves. 

Lanky  Jones  and  Sam  Hatcher  rode  into  the  herd 
and  cut  out  about  thirty  head;  steers,  cows  and  calves 
were  rushed  through  the  gate  into  the  corral.  Then 
they  gradually  separated  the  calves  and  turned  the  steers 
and  cows  outside.  The  majority  of  these  calves  were 
from  three  to  five  months  old,  and  as  wild  as  deer. 

When  Caesar  Boynton  announced  the  irons  ready, 
at  the  proper  heat  to  do  effective  work,  Lanky  and  Sam 


172  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

started  the  calves  on  the  run  around  the  pen  to  keep 
them  from  dodging.  Then  each  swung  his  lasso  above 
his  head,  forming  an  open  loop  by  the  turn  of  their  wrist, 
and  with  unerring  skill  threw  them,  one  over  the  head 
and  the  other  over  the  hind  legs  of  an  animal,  with  a 
sharp  upward  jerk  to  prevent  the  ropes  slipping  off.  The 
well-trained  ponies  turned  their  heads  toward  the  brand- 
ing fire  as  each  rider  took  a  turn  of  his  lasso  around  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle.  This  movement  brought  the  calf 
to  the  ground. 

The  riders  then  dismounted  and  held  the  calf  until 
two  more  cow  punchers  ran  up  and  took  possession ;  one 
sitting  on  the  neck,  held  down  the  head,  and  the  other 
squatting  behind  the  back,  held  the  tail  between  the  hind 
legs  of  the  calf. 

"Hot  iron!"  yelled  one.     "Marker!"  yelled  the  other. 

Jess  Ellison  handled  the  iron  and  pressed  it  carefully 
upon  the  hip,  producing  a  smell  of  scorching  hair.  In 
the  meantime  Boyanton  had  cut  a  swallow  fork  out  of 
one  and  an  underbit  out  of  the  other  ear.  The  animal 
was  then  allowed  to  get  up  and  scamper  off  to  the  other 
end  of  the  pen,  and  another  victim  was  thrown  down. 

The  work  of  marking  and  branding  calves  and  maver- 
icks was  kept  up  all  morning  until  the  entire  herd  had 
been  culled.  Then  everything  was  turned  loose  on  the 
open  range,  amide  the  lowing  of  the  cows  as  they  hunted 
up  their  offspring. 

After  dinner  with  the  boys  at  the  ranch,  Texas  and 
Kentuck  rode  back  to  town. 

ATTACKS  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGECOACH. 

The  holdups  of  the  overland  stage  in  the  early  days 
in  Texas  differed  largely  from  the  holdups  in  the  North- 
west Territories  in  that  instead  of  the  bold,  daring  rob- 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  173 

bers,  the  attacks  were  generally  made  by  the  Indians, 
who  took  a  malicious  delight  in  circling  around  on  their 
ponies  and  discharging  a  volley  of  arrows  and  bullets 
at  the  drivers  as  they  lashed  their  horses  into  a  dashing 
run  for  safety. 

During  these  attacks  it  sometimes  happened  that  the 
horses  were  killed  and  the  drivers  killed  or  wounded  in 
the  battle,  while  many  an  Indian  bit  the  dust.  In  the 
emergency  the  uninjured  passengers  were  compelled  to 
call  on  some  nearby  ranchman  for  assistance  to  the  next 
stage  stand. 

Consequently,  the  driver  was  always  a  brave  man,  cool 
and  deliberate  in  the  hour  of  danger,  with  nerves  of  steel 
and  hands  skilled  to  guide  the  Spanish  mules  over  the 
rugged  trail  and  through  the  mountain  pass,  where  the 
Indians  often  laid  in  ambush. 

The  adventures  of  the  old-time  stage  drivers  would 
make  a  volume  of  exciting  incidents  worthy  of  a  place 
in  the  archives  of  the  past  instead  of  mention  in  so  brief 
a  space  as  the  writer  can  devote  to  it. 

But  as  a  most  potent  factor  in  the  development  of  the 
country  west  of  the  Brazos  river,  the  stagecoach  was  a 
concomitant  in  the  stirring  events  of  the  times,  and 
there  is  no  excuse  for  passing  them  up  to  the  shelf  of 
oblivion  without  acknowledging  their  place  in  frontier 
history,  especially  when  we  consider  the  stage  line  as 
the  most  important  link  in  the  communication  of  the  civ- 
ilized East  with  the  "Wild  West." 

When  Kentuck  arrived  in  Fort  Griffin  in  1876  the 
overland  stage  ran  from  Dallas  and  Denison,  the  terminal 
of  the  railroads,  to  the  Gate  City  of  El  Paso,  on  the  bor- 
der line  of  Old  Mexico,  with  a  system  of  branch  lines 
running  to  Forts  Richardson,  Belknap,  Griffin  and  Clark. 

Among  the  skilled  drivers  that  dashed  into  Fort  Griffin 


174  THE   QUIRT   AND   THE   SPUR 

behind  his  six-in-hand,  the  writer  remembers  Dick 
Wheeler,  now  grown  old  and  gray  and  living  in  the  city 
of  Wichita  Falls,  Texas. 

With  a  multiplicity  of  reins  that  a  "tenderfoot"  would 
tangle  into  a  bewildering  confusion,  he  sat  upon 
the  driver's  seat  with  the  ease  and  confidence  of  expe- 
rience, and  assured  his  passengers  of  a  safe  deliverance 
at  their  destination,  barring  accidents  and  Indians. 

Unless  the  trail  was  rough  and  tortuous,  he  held  the 
reins  in  his  left  hand,  and  with  a  long-lash  whip  in  his 
right,  cracked  merry  encouragement  to  the  wild  mules 
that  galloped  ten  miles  without  a  halt. 

No  previous  training  had  been  given  the  wild,  unfed 
mules.  Roped,  thrown  and  blindfolded,  they  were 
harnessed  while  kicking  and  braying  their  protest,  and 
were  pushed  into  line  and  hitched,  while  an  attendant 
held  each  by  one  ear  and  the  nose  to  prevent  a  dash 
for  liberty. 

When  all  was  ready  and  the  passengers  inside,  the 
driver  would  yell:  "Let  her  go,  boys." 

Each  man  turned  loose  his  mule  and  jumped  back  out 
of  the  way  and,  for  the  first  half-hour  the  driver  had  his 
hands  full  keeping  them  in  the  trail.  It  was  said,  with 
a  great  deal  of  truth,  that  it  was  impossible  to  stop  them 
between  stations,  and  if  a  passenger  desired  to  leave  the 
stage  en  route,  he  was  compelled  to  swing  from  the 
steps. 

And  any  one  on  the  wayside,  desiring  to  take  passage, 
was  compelled  to  board  the  stage  while  in  motion. 

Dick  Wheeler  drove  over  the  entire  route  from  Fort' 
Worth  to  El  Paso  during  the  year  1877,  pushing  on 
ahead  of  the  construction  of  the  Texas  &  Pacific  as  the 
iron  rails  were  being  laid  westward. 

At  that  time  the  Comanches  were  troublesome  in  the 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  175 

"plains"  country,  and  Wheeler  was  mixed  up  in  several 
exciting  adventures. 

One,  especially,  is  worth  mentioning.  It  was  a  west- 
bound trip,  and  the  overland  was  bowling  along  the  trail 
near  the  stage  stand  that  developed  into  the  town  of 
Toyah.  The  stage  could  be  seen  for  miles  as  it  rolled 
along  over  the  prairie. 

The  evening  shadows  were  lengthening,  and  driver 
and  passengers  were  looking  forward  to  a  night's  rest 
before  resuming  their  journey  on  the  morrow.  The  un- 
dulating surface  of  the  trail  as  the  stage  swayed  through 
the  buffalo  wallows,  occupied  their  attention,  and  no  one 
noticed  a  band  of  painted  warriors  until  they  came 
charging  down  with  a  blood-curdling  warwhoop.  Wheel- 
er and  the  passengers  responded  to  the  Indian  charge 
with  a  volley  from  their  rifles,  and  the  battle  was  on. 

Two  of  the  mules  were  shot  down,  the  others  became 
helplessly  entangled  in  the  harness,  and  the  stage  was 
overturned.  Wheeler  cut  the  harness  and  freed  the 
mules,  and  they  galloped  away  toward  the  stage  stand. 
In  the  meantime,  Wheeler  and  the  passengers  used  the 
overturned  stage  for  a  breastwork,  and  all  except  a  Jew 
named  Bernstine  engaged  the  Indians,  who  circled  at 
full  speed,  swinging  on  the  opposite  side  of  their  ponies 
and  shooting  from  beneath  the  animal's  neck.  Two  or 
three  of  the  Comanches  were  armed  with  pistols  and, 
though  poor  marksmen,  made  it  interesting  for  the  de- 
fenders. 

While  the  others  were  busy  pumping  lead,  a  bullet 
from  a  Comanche  gun  shattered  a  spoke  near  Bernstine's 
head,  the  ragged  splinters  sticking  into  the  skin  and 
making  the  blood  flow  and  he  made  a  frantic  appeal. 

"Yust  you  look  here  oncst,  don't  it,  where  der  blood 
flows  from  der  wound  in  me  head.  Henry  Bernstine  is 


176  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

sure  dead.  Der  old  fadder  and  der  mudder  will  mourn 
for  him,  but  he  no  return  some  more  to  his  happy  child- 
hood home,  don't  it?  Vay  out  here  where  no  wimmins 
and  childrens  live,  you  will  bury  me  when  the  fight  is 
done,  but  you  don't  let  'em  take  me  hair  off,  vill  you?" 

"Oh,  cut  out  that  chin  music,  Sheeny;  you  are  not 
hurt.  Jump  up  and  be  a  man,"  said  Wheeler. 

"And  I  ain't  hurt  some,  hey?  By  the  great  prophet 
Elijah,  I  was  so  glad  dot  Henry  Bernstine  is  not  dead." 

A  hearty  laugh  followed  this  sally,  and  the  fight  con- 
tinued. 

But  the  white  men  being  better  protected  and  good 
marksmen,  the  Comanches,  after  having  a  horse  killed 
and  one  of  their  number  wounded,  abandoned  the  fight 
and  rode  away  to  the  north. 

The  escaped  mules  arrived  at  the  stage  stand  and  the 
agent  and  hostlers  knew  something  was  wrong,  and  lost 
no  time  going  to  the  rescue.  The  stage  was  righted  and 
fresh  mules  hitched  in,  and  the  whole  outfit  rolled  into 
the  little  settlement. 

THE  "HAPPY  FAMILY"  DELUSION. 

That  the  prairie  dog,  owl  and  rattlesnake  live  in  the 
same  town  is  a  well  established  fact.  But  that  they  are 
a  "happy  family,"  going  in  and  out  the  same  dog  hole, 
is  a  fallacy  born  of  the  imagination  of  some  romancer 
who  has  imposed  on  the  credulity  of  the  public,  who  never 
traveled  where  the  prairie  dog  towns  of  Northwest  Texas 
cover  hundreds  of  acres  of  otherwise  fertile  lands. 

Of  course,  when  necessity  leaves  no  choice  of  escape, 
the  dog,  owl  and  the  snake  will  make  a  dash  for  the  most 
convenient  hole.  And  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  rat- 
tlesnake is  coiled  in  the  mouth  of  the  hole  when  the  dog 
makes  a  dash  for  the  same  hole.  Then  there  is  a  dis- 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  177 

tressing  scene  that  cannot  but  appeal  to  the  sympathies 
of  one  watching  the  little  rodent  when  it  finds  itself  where 
the  chances  are  about  equal  between  the  pursuing  terror 
and  the  fangs  in  front. 

Perhaps  the  dog  will  take  all  kinds  of  chances  to  es- 
cape to  another  hole  rather  than  dash  for  liberty  through 
the  coils  of  his  snakeship. 

In  every  dog  town  there  are  abandoned  holes,  deserted 
by  the  one-time  occupants  for  some  good  reasons;  gen- 
erally because  one  of  the  number  had  been  killed  and 
fallen  down  the  passageway,  where  it  was  left  to  decay. 
Into  these  abandoned  holes  the  snakes  find  their  way  and 
take  up  their  abode  where  owls  already  live.  This  is  the 
true  explanation  of  the  "happy  family,"  theory.  In  fact, 
the  dog,  snake  and  owl  are  deadly  enemies  when  they 
meet  in  the  passageway  of  a  dog  hole.  Nevertheless,  a 
student  of  nature  can  find  much  that  is  interesting  in  the 
habits  and  intelligence  of  a  colony  of  prairie  dogs. 

In  a  large  colony,  covering  fifty  or  one  hundred  acres, 
the  underground  city  is  connected  with  tunnels  re- 
sembling streets  and  alleys,  used  in  common  by  the  whole 
colony.  Removed  from  the  common  passages  are  the 
homes  of  each  family  of  dogs,  where  they  raise  their 
young  and  store  their  food.  These  homes  are  generally 
elevated  six  inches  above  the  common  passage,  and  en- 
tered from  a  small  tunnel  leading  from  the  passage  to 
the  home.  In  every  colony  there  is  a  drainage  canal 
and  public  wells.  Any  one  who  has  ever  tried  to  drown 
out  the  dogs  by  pouring  water  into  the  holes  has  found 
that  unless  he  uses  an  isolated  hole  he  can  pour  barrels 
of  water  into  one  without  any  perceivable  effect. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  these  little  animals  were  called 
dogs  when  in  fact  they  are  of  the  ground  squirrel  species, 
for  otherwise  the  early  settlers  and  travelers  might  have 
12 


178   •  THE  QUIRT   AND  THE   SPUR 

used  them  for  food  when  larger  game  was  scarce.  Preju- 
dice, by  reason  of  their  name,  protected  them  from  the 
hunter's  rifle  until  the  man  with  the  hoe  came  along  and 
used  poison  to  clear  the  land  of  the  pests. 

One  of  the  most  terrorizing  things  that  can  happen 
to  the  denizens  of  a  prairie  dog  town  is  the  onrush  of  a 
stampeding  herd  of  cattle  or  buffalo.  As  their  sharp 
hoofs  tear  up  the  loose  earth  and  send  it  rattling  down 
the  mouth  of  the  holes,  while  the  dogs,  owls  and  snakes 
are  making  frantic  efforts  to  dive  down  out  of  the  way 
of  the  moving  avalanche,  consternation  reigns.  For  the 
time  being  each  forgets  to  make  war  on  his  neighbor 
while  trying  to  escape  from  the  common  enemy. 

But  the  greed  for  gain  wiped  the  buffalo  off  the  face 
of  the  prairie  and  drove  the  Indian  beyond  the  border  of 
the  State,  and  the  prairie  dog  remained  to  contest  with 
the  white  man  the  possession  of  the  land. 

The  system  of  fencing  in  large  pastures  has  proven  a 
protection  to  the  antelope,  jackrabbits  and  prairie  dogs, 
and  in  many  places  they  have  multiplied  in  large  num- 
bers. But  the  man  with  the  hoe  is  marching  westward 
and  relentlessly  making  war  on  all  wild  animals. 

A  few  more  years  and  Texas,  like  the  older  States  of 
the  Union,  will  be  cut  up  into  farms  and  small  pastures, 
and  there  will  be  no  hiding  place  for  wild  animals.  The 
sportsmen  can  travel  many  miles  without  amusement  or 
profit  to-day,  where  game  in  abundance  roamed  a  few 
years  ago. 

In  the  days  long  gone  Texas  and  Kentuck  awakened 
in  the  mornings  and  looking  out  over  the  prairie  could 
see  buffalo,  deer,  antelope  and  wolves,  and  hear  the  wild 
turkeys  leaving  their  roosts  in  the  trees  along  the  North 
Prong,  rarely  sitting  down  to  a  meal  without  enjoying 
turkey,  but  nothing  remains  but  the  memory. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  179 

BEEF  ON  THE  RANGE 

When  "Dutch  Nance,"  George  and  Jim  Loving  were 
the  agents  for  St.  Louis,  Kansas  City  and  Chicago  stock 
yards,  beef  steers  were  sold  and  delivered  on  the  range 
to  the  stock  yard  agents  instead  of  being  shipped  by  the 
ranchmen  themselves. 

As  soon  as  the  season  opened  these  agents  rode  from 
ranch  to  ranch  and  bargained  for  a  certain  number  to 
be  rounded  up  and  delivered  on  a  certain  date  to  the 
agents,  who  drove  them  to  the  nearest  railway  point, 
Dallas,  Denison  or  Fort  Worth,  150  or  200  miles  distant. 

To  simplify  matters  the  agents  employed  the  requisite 
number  of  cow  punchers  to  gather  and  hold  until  a  herd 
of  about  2,000  was  made  up,  then  to  be  driven  over  the 
trail  to  the  railroad. 

"Dutch  Nance's"  home  was  near  the  town  of  Denton, 
but  by  reason  of  his  occupation  as  a  buyer  of  cattle  on 
the  Griffin  range,  he  became  a  familiar  visitor  in  the 
cow  camps  and  the  resorts  around  town  where  the  cat- 
tlemen were  wont  to  spend  their  leisure  time. 

Robust  and  full  of  life,  he  became  a  boon  companion 
of  the  festive  cow  punchers,  entering  into  all  their  sports 
and  sympathizing  in  all  of  their  misfortunes.  It  was  not 
an  uncommon  event  for  him  to  make  Albany  his  head- 
quarters for  two  months  during  the  fall  season  when 
he  was  directing  the  gathering  of  his  purchase  of  beef 
steers  in  the  surrounding  ranches. 

During  these  periods  Nance  entered  into  the  social 
whirl,  and  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay  gallants  that  made 
their  heels  clatter  and  spurs  rattle  to  the  music  of  Black 
Andy's  fiddle. 

And  these  affairs  were  a  source  of  genuine  enjoyment 
in  those  days  of  good  fellowship,  when  neither  riches, 


180  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

class  nor  dress  divided  the  people.  All  the  boys  chipped 
in  their  dollar  to  make  the  affair  a  success. 

And  it  was  Irish  generosity  that  was  prevalent  to  the 
extent  that  one's  purse  was  at  the  pleasure  of  his  friends, 
whose  I.  O.  U.  was  all  the  security  necessary.  Open 
doors  and  unrestrained  hospitality  greeted  all. 

Ranches  were  few  and  far  between  in  those  days  and 
all  kept  open  house,  consequently,  when  Col.  Caesar 
Boynton,  wife,  two  sons  and  two  daughters,  old  friends 
of  Sheriff  Will  Cruger,  arrived  from  Albany,  Ga.,  their 
advent  was  hailed  with  delight  by  reason  of  the  fact  that 
they  located  a  ranch  four  miles  east  of  the  town. 

And  notwithstanding  Colonel  Boynton  was  an  aristo- 
crat, belonging  to  the  old  school  of  Southern  gentlemen, 
whose  pride  and  pretensions  ought  to  have  been  buried 
in  the  grave  of  the  Civil  War,  his  sons  and  daughters 
were  soon  able  to  assimilate  family  pride  with  Western 
hospitality  to  the  extent  of  making  the  Boynton  home 
a  popular  resort  for  the  cowboys.  Mollie,  Zuda,  Caesar 
Jr.  and  George  devised  ways  and  means  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  their  new  friends. 

"Dutch  Nance,"  Texas  and  Kentuck  were  frequent 
visitors,  and  generally  leaders  in  the  square  dances  when 
there  were  sufficient  numbers  to  make  a  set. 

Texas,  whose  love  affairs  were  not  running  smooth- 
ly, secured  the  cooperation  of  Mollie  Boynton  in  devising 
a  way  to  meet  the  girl  he  loved.  It  was  often  arranged 
that  a  number  of  young  people  were  invited  to  the  Boyn- 
ton home  to  spend  the  evening,  and  Texas  and  Mollie 
Lyle  given  a  rare  opportunity  to  enjoy  each  other's  com- 
pany. 

One  evening  when  the  usual  number  of  merry-makers 
were  assembled,  a  dapper  little  man  dressed  in  "store 
clothes,"  with  the  stamp  of  city  impressed  over  his  whole 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  181 

person,  appeared  from  the  shadowy  light  beyond  the 
doorway  and  stood  in  the  entrance,  as  if  uncertain 
whether  to  retreat  or  advance. 

The  costume  worn  by  the  stranger,  more  than  his  be- 
wildered attitude,  produced  an  embarrassing  silence  that 
might  have  become  painful  if  Mrs.  Boynton,  coming 
from  a  rear  room  had  not  recognized  him  and  exclaimed : 

"Well,  I  declare  if  that  is  not  Cheever  Pace?" 

"Certainly,  I'm  Cheever  Pace,  from  your  old  town  in 
Georgia,  and  a  deuce  of  a  time  I  have  had  jolting  along 
in  a  stagecoach  from  Fort  Worth.  Met  Bill  Cruger  in 
Fort  Griffin,  and  he  asked  a  bunch  of  cowboys  going  to 
Ellison's  ranch  to  loan  me  a  pony  and  allow  me  to  ride 
with  them  along  the  trail  until  we  came  to  your  house. 
They  said  something  to  Bill  about  being  disgraced  if 
they  were  seen  with  a  'spider-legged'  dude,  but  he  ex- 
plained that  I  was  his  friend,  and  was  only  a  green 
'tenderfoot,'  and  didn't  know  any  better  than  to  dike  up 
like  a  'scissor-tail.'  'And,  boys,  you  will  do  me  a  favor 
to  deliver  him  to  Mrs.  Boynton  without  damaging  the 
package.'  One  of  them  named  Jackson  said,  'Being  as 
you  put  it  that  way,  Cruger,  we  are  inclined  to  grant  the 
favor,  but  we  will  shy  around  Albany,  for  fear  that 
some  cow  puncher,  full  of  'loco- juice,'  might  drop  a 
lariat  over  him.'  Now,  what  did  he  mean,  Mrs.  Boyn- 
ton?" 

Everyone  in  the  room  enjoyed  a  hearty  laugh,  much 
to  the  amazement  of  Pace. 

Mrs.  Boynton  kindly  advised  Pace  when  he  awoke  in 
the  morning  to  accept  the  loan  of  a  Texas  suit  from  her 
son  George  until  he  could  purchase  clothes  more  in  har- 
mony with  his  surroundings. 

"Dog  take  it,  what  is  the  matter  with  these  clothes?" 
said  Pace. 


182  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"All  right  where  you  came  from,  but  all  wrong  out 
here  on  the  range,"  said  Texas. 

"But  I  don't  understand,"  said  Pace. 

"Oh,  you  will  learn  later.  I  made  the  same  mistake; 
I  don't  have  to  be  told  now,"  said  Kentuck. 

"But  what  is  a  'tenderfoot'?"  inquired  Pace. 

"A  fellow  without  experience,  who  tries  to  walk  over 
a  rough  trail  barefooted,"  explained  "Dutch  Nance." 

"Fortunately,  Mr.  Pace,  you  are  without  any  rough 
experience,  thanks  to  Sheriff  Cruger.  And  there  is  no 
reason  why  you  may  not  join  us  and  have  a  pleasant 
evening." 

"You  forget,  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Boynton,  "that  per- 
haps Mr.  Pace  will  enjoy  a  lunch  first." 

"Oh,  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  forget."  And  Mollie 
Boynton  excused  herself  to  prepare  the  lunch. 

After  satisfying  his  appetite,  Pace  joined  the  others, 
and  an  impromptu  dance  was  enjoyed  for  an  hour. 

The  hands  of  the  clock  were  nearing  the  midnight 
hour  when  the  guests  of  the  evening  departed,  "Dutch 
Nance,"  Texas  and  Kentuck,  escorting  Mollie  Dobbs 
and  the  two  Misses  Holcomb  to  Albany,  Mollie  Lyle  and 
Cheever  Pace  remaining  over  night  with  the  Boyntons. 

But  the  advent  of  the  railroads  brought  about  a  change 
in  the  manner  of  handling  cattle,  and  ranchmen  began 
to  ship  their  own  beeves  to  market. 

Another  change  came  also  in  the  nature  of  an  influx 
of  Eastern  capital  for  investment  in  Texas  cattle  and 
ranches.  It  was  a  favorite  avenue  for  retired  manu- 
facturers and  merchants  of  Boston,  New  York  and  Phil- 
adelphia to  invest  money  for  their  sons,  who  were  often 
sent  out  to  take  charge  of  the  property. 
'  And  one  of  the  biggest  mistakes  of  these  scions  of  rich 
men  was  that  they  had  acquired  a  theoretical  knowledge 


AMUSING   INCIDENTS  183 

of  cattle  raising  in  one  of  the  departments  of  an  Eastern 
college,  which  instead  of  an  advantage  in  the  practical 
workings  of  a  Western  ranch,  proved  their  undoing.  For 
their  theory  had  no  conception  of  an  open  range  in  a 
sparsely  settled  country,  where  nature  grew  the  prov- 
ender and  cattle  >rustled  for  themselves.  Consequently, 
investments  of  this  kind  proved  disastrous  to  the  in- 
vestors, at  the  same  time  producing  abnormal  apprecia- 
tion in  the  price  of  stock  cattle. 

Strange  to  say,  many  old-time  ranchmen  who  could 
not  withstand  the  temptation  of  speculation  in  the  fic- 
titious prices,  also  went  broke,  instead  of  waiting  until 
the  market  became  normal  again. 

During  these  days  many  ludicrous  situations  occurred, 
growing  out  of  the  strained  relations  between  the  prac- 
tical Westerner  and  the  theoretical  Easterner,  often  lead- 
ing to  an  open  rupture  when  some  old-time  cow  puncher 
rebelled  against  a  nonsensical  innovation. 

This  was  forcibly  illustrated  one  morning  on  the  Grif- 
fin range  during  the  delivery  of  a  bunch  of  cattle  to  one 
Dunkan,  nephew  of  the  Eastern  purchaser. 

Dunkan  was  fresh  from  college  and,  in  his  own  estima- 
tion, what  he  did  not  know  about  the  cattle  business  was 
beyond  the  knowledge  of  Texas  cow  punchers. 

One  can  imagine  the  self-importance  of  this  graduate 
who  had  listened  to  the  wise  professors  lecture  on  the 
anatomy  of  a  cow — an  Eastern  cow — raised  in  a  barn  and 
fed  on  prepared  food.  But  Dunkan's  first  morning's  ex- 
perience with  "Mrs.  Longhorn,"  knocked  all  the  halo 
from  around  his  theory. 

The  whole  outfit  was  busy  preparing  to  round  up  the 
local  range  on  the  morrow,  and  had  neither  time  nor 
disposition  to  listen  to  Dunkan's  theories.  No  one  paid 
any  attention  to  the  young  man  from  the  East.  But  he 


184  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

refused  to  be  ignored  and  got  busy  asking  questions, 
and  was  invariably  referred  to  the  "range  boss,"  a  red- 
headed Irishman  named  O'Connor,  who  had  an  utter 
contempt  for  what  he  called  a  spider-legged  dude. 

Dunkan  chased  around  from  place  to  place  and  finally 
located  O'Connor  near  the  cook's  shanty,  cinching  up 
his  bronco. 

Without  any  preliminaries,  Dunkan  blurted  out:  "Say, 
me  good  fellow,  how  far  is  it  to  where  the  gentle  bovines 
are  grazing,  that  you  intend  to  drive  up  and  decorate 
with  the  insignia  of  me  dear  uncle?" 

O'Connor  looked  up  from  his  shaggy  brows,  and  eye- 
ing the  young  man  with  contempt,  said :  "Oh,  to  blazes 
wid  yez  foin  talk,  ye  blubbering  idiot.  If  I  had  time 
I'd  chuck  ye  down  a  prairie  dog  hole,  where  yez  could 
speel  yez  story  to  the  snake  and  awl,  instead  of  snoop- 
ing around  here  wid  yez  baby  talk." 

"But,  me  good  fellow,  you  do  not  seem  to  understand. 
I  take  great  pleasure  in  this  ideal  life  of  the  cowboy." 

"Oh,  cut  out  yez  chin  music  and  lave  off  bothering 
me.  I  don't  know  what  yez  mean  by  all  that  palaver,  but 
I'm  willing  to  do  what's  right  about  it." 

"Then  if  you  will  kindly  order  a  horse,  I'll  take  great 
pleasure  in  accompanying  you,  so  that  I  can  take  ob- 
servations and  make  suggestions  that  may  prove  helpful 
in  simplifying  your  work." 

"Say,  Tucker,"  shouted  O'Connor  to  a  cowboy  near 
by;  "saddle  up  that  old  flea-bitten  gray  and  turn  him 
over  to  this  dude." 

Following  instructions,  Tucker  saddled  up  one  of  the 
old  outlawed  cayuses  that  had  been  turned  loose  for  a 
year.  This  old  skate  always  took  the  bit  between  his 
teeth  and  ran  away  when  mounted  by  any  one  not  fa- 
miliar with  his  tricks. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  185 

So  it  happened  that  when  the  dude  from  the  East  was 
astride  of  him,  one  of  the  cowboys  came  galloping  up, 
yelling,  "Yip!  yipJ  yahee!"  Away  went  that  old  flea- 
bitten  bronc  like  he  was  shot  out  of  a  gun,  carrying 
Dunkan  far  afield  over  the  prairie,  on  and  on  for  several 
miles,  and  it  was  near  the  noon  hour  before  the  dude  re- 
turned, sore,  dejected  and  humble.  He  had  learned  a 
lesson  in  the  school  of  experience,  and  was  a  "sadder, 
but  wiser  man." 

But  time  and  experience  are  wonderful  educators,  and 
it  did  not  take  Dunkan  long  to  become  a  full-fledged  cow 
puncher.  All  the  Yankee  drawl  and  affectation  of  "away 
down  East"  was  knocked  out  of  him,  and  he  became  able 
to  hold  his  own  with  the  boys  on  the  range. 

From  a  dude  college  student  to  an  expert  "bronco 
buster"  was  a  big  drop  in  ethics,  but  Dunkan  landed  upon 
both  feet  and  made  one  of  the  best  hands  on  the  ranch. 

After  eighteen  months  of  rough,  hard  labor,  driving, 
marking  and  branding  cattle,  until  his  hands  and  face 
were  the  color  of  tanned  leather,  he  concluded  to  visit  the 
"old  folks  at  home." 

When  he  arrived  in  Boston  there  was  a  family  reunion, 
and  the  place  of  honor  was  given  him  at  the  banquet  that 
followed.  Among  the  invited  guests  on  that  occasion 
was  a  number  of  college  chums  and  lady  friends. 

Dunkan  appeared  in  evening  suit  and  was  the  "lion 
of  the  hour." 

Time  and  again  he  was  importuned  to  tell  the  amusing 
incidents  of  his  rough  experience  on  the  Texas  cattle 
range.  So  preoccupied  did  he  become  in  the  recital  that 
he  for  the  moment  forgot  his  surroundings,  and  uncon- 
sciously lapsed  into  the  free  and  easy  habit  of  eating  in 
a  cow  camp. 

One  of  the  courses  served  at  the  table  was  a  liberal 


186  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

portion  of  chicken  pie,  a  dish  that  Dunkan  was  particu- 
larly fond  of,  and  while  he  was  busy  eating  and  talking 
he  committed  an  unpardonable  breach  of  table  manners 
by  throwing  the  chicken  bones  over  his  shoulder  upon 
the  floor. 

The  shout  of  hilarious  laughter  that  followed  this 
breach  of  etiquette  cause  the  erstwhile  "bronco  buster"  to 
blush  until  the  red  blood  showed  through  the  tan. 

Dunkan  was  one  among  many  college  students  who 
made  good  cow  punchers  on  the  "free  range"  of  Texas. 

Consequently  it  is  passing  strange  that  Eastern  writ- 
ers who  were  interested  west  of  the  Mississippi  river  per- 
sistently class  the  cowboys  as  ignorant,  coarse  and  un- 
couth. Wild  and  reckless,  I  grant  you,  but  ignorant  and 
uncouth,  never! 

Unfortunately,  there  were  a  few  vicious  and  unprin- 
cipled rascals  who  belonged  to  some  of  the  outfits,  and 
disgraced  the  calling. 

But  this  was  the  exception  to  the  rule. 

KlDD  BOGGS  AND  THE  TELEPHONE 

The  march  of  progress  brought  many  changes  in 
ranch  life  in  the  early  '8os. 

The  Texas  &  Pacific  railway  pushed  its  way  west 
through  the  open  range,  and  the  immigrants  arrived  by 
jcar  loads,  built  towns  and  fenced  in  sections  of  land 
along  the  route  of  the  iron  highway  for  agricultural  pur- 
poses. 

This  necessitated  a  change  in  the  plans  of  the  old-time 
cattle  kings.  They  read  the  "handwriting  on  the  wall" 
of  destiny,  and  began  to  file  on  and  lease  large  tracts  of 
land  for  pastures;  fenced  them  in  with  strands  of  wire, 
converting  the  old  range  into  pastures  for  breeding  and 
raising  improved  g.rades  of  cattle. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  187 

During  this  transition  stage  there  were  many  conflicts 
of  interests,  sometimes  bordering  on  hostilities,  between 
the  open  range  and  pasture  men.  In  some  sections  this 
developed  into  fence-cutting  and  other  lawless  acts.  But 
as  the  months  passed  things  began  to  adjust  themselves 
to  the  new  conditions,  and  many  ranchmen,  who  drove 
their  herds  farther  west,  began  to  improve  their  home 
ranches. 

With  other  improvements  came  the  telephone,  at  first 
used  in  its  experimental  stage  in  the  small  towns,  later 
enlarging  to  include  the  local  ranches.  Often  miles  of 
wire  fencing  were  used  to  make  a  connection  between  the 
ranch  and  the  home  town. 

In  this  connection  it  is  worth  while  to  relate  an  amus- 
ing incident  that  happened  on  a  ranch  not  many  miles 
from  Fort  Griffin. 

In  order  to  avoid  being  personal,  the  writer  will 
say  that  during  the  absence  of  Kidd  Boggs  from  the 
home  ranch,  with  a  bunch  of  steers  on  the  Western  range, 
the  ranchman  made  connection  with  Griffin  by  hitching 
the  electric  current  to  his  wire  fence. 

Texas  and  Kentuck  were  present  when  Kidd  Boggs 
returned  from  the  range  for  a  week's  rest  at  the  home 
ranch,  and  witnessed  the  amusing  incident  of  Kidd's 
first  introduction  to  the  telephone. 

While  Kidd  was  cleaning  the  alkali  dust  from  his  an- 
atomy and  getting  a  bite  to  eat,  the  other  boys  put  up  a 
job  on  him  by  communicating  with  a  friend  in  town  and 
requesting  that  he  accuse  the  Kidd  of  stealing  a  yearling 
when  he  talked  over  the  phone. 

After  the  cleaning  up  process  and  eating  his  lunch, 
Kidd  sauntered  into  the  office  known  as  the  "boss'  work- 
shop." The  other  boys  were  lounging  around  waiting 
until  he  discovered  the  phone. 


188  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

Throwing  his  hat  into  the  corner  of  the  room,  shaking 
hands  and  saying  howdy,  all  'round,  he  dropped  into  a 
chair  and,  like  the  cat  that  came  back,  began  to  take  ob- 
servations. And  spying  the  phone  box,  he  exclaimed: 
"What  the  blazes  is  that,  now?" 

"Oh,  that  box  on  the  wall?  that's  a  talking  machine," 
responded  one  of  the  boys. 

"What  you  giving  me? — think  I'm  a  greaser?" 

"Sure  thing,  Kidd,"  remarked  another  boy. 

"Oh,  go  way  back  and  set  down ;  I  ain't  green." 

"Go  over  there,  Kidd,"  said  Texas,  "and  turn  the  crank 
on  the  side ;  take  down  the  horn  with  a  string  to  it,  hang- 
ing on  the  peg,  and  put  it  over  your  ear,  and  say  hello 
into  that  thing  in  front." 

Kidd  got  up,  eyed  the  boys  suspiciously  and  walked 
gingerly  over  to  the  phone,  carefully  looked  it  over  and 
finally  following  instructions,  yelled  "Hello!" 

"Is  that  you,  Kidd  Boggs?"  came  back  over  the  wire. 

"Sure  thing,"  answered  the  Kidd. 

"Well,  I'm  onto  you  hard  and  fast,  Kidd.  You  stole 
that  red  yearling  from  Bar  X  ranch." 

"What — what's  that  you  say?  Darn  your  measly 
hide!"  And  before  any  one  could  interfere,  the  Kidd 
stepped  back,  pulled  his  gun  and  began  to  pump  lead 
into  the  phone  box. 

The  boss  and  the  other  boys  joined  in  a  roar  of  laugh- 
ter, and  Kidd  sheepishly  returned  his  gun  to  its  scabbard. 
'Twas  a  "horse  on  him." 

RIDING  INTO  A  SALOON  FOR  THE  DRINKS 

The  spice  and  variety  of  frontier  life  was  that  the 
unexpected  was  always  happening;  something  altogether 
out  of  the  ordinary  dull  routine ;  startling  surprises  that 
almost  took  your  breath,  leaving  one  to  wonder  what 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  189 

would  be  the  next  move  on  the  complex  checkerboard 
where  men  played  for  big  stakes. 

One  of  the  most  surprising  stunts  that  a  bunch  of 
cow  punchers  could  pull  off  without  batting  an  eye  was 
to  ride  with  unconcern  into  a  saloon  and  line  up  on  horse- 
back in  front  of  the  bar  and  order  the  drinks. 

Texas  and  Kentuck  were  standing  in  front  of  E. 
Frankle's  store  on  Griffin  avenue  one  evening  in  the  sum- 
mer of  '79,  when  a  rollicking  bunch  of  Millet's  cow 
punchers,  led  by  Peeler,  rode  up  in  front  of  the  Old 
Adobe  saloon.  Their  loud  talk  and  belligerant  attitude 
gave  evidence  of  too  much  whisky. 

"Come  on,  boys,"  said  Bill  Jones,  a  reckless  specimen 
of  bravado.  "I'm  as  dry  as  a  herring  and  haven't  time 
to  hitch,"  and  he  spurred  his  bronco  into  the  open  door 
of  the  saloon,  followed  by  a  half-dozen  as  wild  and  reck- 
less cusses  as  ever  sat  astride  of  a  pony. 

The  obedient  little  animals  were  reined  up  in  front  of 
the  bar,  and  the  drinks  ordered  all  around. 

Though  the  barkeep,  Mike  Casey,  was  not  in  the  best 
of  humor  over  the  lawless  act,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  served  the  drinks,  managing  to  keep  a  civil  tongue 
while  the  outfit  cussed  and  roared  with  delight  over  their 
escapade. 

They  were  ready  either  for  a  fight  or  a  frolic,  and 
would  have  tossed  up  a  penny  for  choice. 

Finding  no  one  willing  to  challenge  their  unceremon- 
ious entrance  and  dare-devil  conduct,  they  rode  out 
swinging  their  sombreros  over  their  heads,,  stood  up  in 
their  stirrups,  and  let  out  a  series  of  yells  as  they  spurred 
their  ponies  into  a  gallop  and  ran  out  of  the  Flat,  firing 
right  and  left. 

"Those  onerary  cusses  need  a  few  loads  of  buckshot 
at  close  range,"  remarked  Texas. 


190  THE  QUIRT   AND   THE  SPUR 

"Yes,"  replied  Kentuck,  "Cap  and  Lon  Millet  can 
scrape  up  as  scurvy  a  lot  of  scalawags  as  can  be  found 
on  the  range." 

PRACTICAL  JOKES 

The  members  of  a  "down  East"  shoe  manufacturing 
firm,  who  had  successfully  invaded  the  other  portions  of 
the  State,  could  not  understand  the  conditions  that  pre- 
vailed in  Northwest  Texas,  where  they  were  unable  to 
dispose  of  any  of  their  wares.  Consequently,  in  the  early 
spring  of  1877  they  ordered  one  of  their  salesmen  to 
visit  the  range  country,  study  the  situation  and  report 
to  headquarters  in  Boston,  the  object  of  the  firm  being 
to  manufacture  a  special  article  to  meet  the  demand  for 
footwear. 

A  jolly,  loquacious  gentleman  named  Billy  Watson 
was  selected  by  reason  of  his  "free  and  easy"  disposition 
and  his  propensity  for  mixing  with  all  kinds  of  people 
successfully. 

But  notwithstanding  Billy  knew  his  business,  and  any- 
where within  the  civilized  limits  would  have  held  a  win- 
ning hand,  he  did  not  know  straight  up  about  the  country 
west  of  the  Brazos  river. 

So  when  he  climbed  into  the  stagecoach  at  Fort 
Worth  with  his  sample  case  and  letters  of  introduction 
to  the  leading  firms  in  Weatherford,  Graham,  Comanche 
and  Fort  Griffin,  he  was  like  a  sailor  adrift  on  an  unknown 
sea. 

In  addition  to  being  a  helpless  "tenderfoot,"  he  made  the 
mistake  of  being  dressed  in  a  flashy  suit  of  store  clothes 
and  a  derby  hat — a  sure  challenge  to  any  self-respecting 
cowboy  to  resent  an  invasion  of  the  established  costume 
of  the  frontier. 

"Brazos  Bill,"  the  stage  driver,  took  Watson's  measure, 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  191 

and  decided  to  let  the  "tenderfoot"  profit  by  experience, 
instead  of  warning  him  or  arguing  the  question  of  pro- 
priety. There  were  three  other  passengers  in  the  coach 
— Aunt  Polly  Sikes,  Jim  Loving  and  Dave  Gardner — all 
bound  for  Weatherford.  The  men  wore  the  regulation 
broad-brim  hat,  blue  flannel  shirt  and  overalls,  with  the 
legs  thrust  into  a  pair  of  high-heeled  boots ;  six-shooters, 
camp  knife  and  jingling  spurs. 

At  first  the  situation  was  a  little  strained,  and  Watson 
and  his  fellow  passengers  eyed  each  other  suspiciously 
until  the  old  lady  broke  the  silence  by  exclaiming:  "Law 
sakes,  ain't  this  Mary's  creek,  where  the  road  agent  held 
up  the  stage  the  last  trip?" 

"Yep,"  said  Jim  Loving,  "you  are  plumb  right,  sis ;  they 
sure  did!" 

"Say,  Jim  Loving,  what  yer  calling  me  sis  for,  and  me 
old  enough  for  your  grandma?" 

"Excuse  me,  Aunt  Polly,"  grinned  Jim,  "I  clean  for- 
got." 

"Well,  you  had  better  remember  your  manners  next 
time,  young  man." 

"Holdup — what's  a  holdup  ?"  said  Watson. 

"Oh,  it's  only  a  little  fun  a  fellow  named  Lone  Jack 
had  with  the  driver  and  passengers  when  he  stepped  out 
in  front  of  the  horses  with  a  black  rag  over  his  face  and 
a  Winchester  in  his  hand,"  said  Loving. 

"What  did  the  passengers  and  the  driver  do?" 

"Contributed  their  surplus  wealth  to  pacify  him." 

"Anybody  hurt?" 

"Nope;  he  politely  allowed  them  to  depart  after  re- 
moving the  mail  sack." 

"Say,  do  you  know  this  is  a  little  interesting  to  a  man 
like  me,  making  his  first  trip  West?"  remarked  Watson. 

"'Spect  so,"  said  Loving. 


192  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

After  a  few  minutes'  silence  Watson,  not  entirely  sat- 
isfied, asked:  "Does  this  happen  often?" 

"Nope,"  remarked  Dave  Gardner;  "it  is  generally  the 
Indians  that  come  cavorting  around  the  stage  and  make 
everybody  hustle  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  a  flock  of 
arrows." 

"Goodness,  gracious,  man!  You  talk  as  if  it  was  a 
commonplace  occurrence  instead  of  an  event  where  peo- 
ple are  liable  to  lose  their  lives." 

"Nothing  much  when  you  get  used  to  it,  stranger," 
remarked  Gardner. 

"Get  used  to  it?  How  can  a  man  get  used  to  it  when 
he  is  killed?" 

"'Course  not,  if  he's  dead.  But  suppose  he  don't  get 
killed,  he  won't  be  so  skittish  the  next  time,  I  guess." 

"Well,  that's  cool,"  said  Watson ;  "I'm  not  so  sure  I'll 
enjoy  this  trip  like  I  anticipated." 

"Where  you  going,  stranger?"  asked  Loving. 

"A  little  trip  out  West  in  the  interest  of  our  boot  and 
shoe  house." 

"Ever  been  West  before?" 

"Never." 

"Then  you'll  learn  a  whole  lot  before  you  return, 
stranger." 

"Seems  I'm  learning  now,"  said  Watson. 

"Hope  so,  stranger,"  remarked  Loving. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  journey  a  desultory  con- 
versation was  kept  up  relative  to  Indian  raids,  horse 
thieves  and  exciting  events  generally  until  Watson  was 
apprehensive  that  something  terrible  would  happen. 

Weatherford  at  this  time  was  a  straggling  village  of  a 
few  houses,  not  calculated  to  allay  Watson's  fears,  es- 
pecially as  it  had  more  the  appearance  of  a  frontier  sup- 
ply post  than  the  county  seat  of  an  organized  county. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  193 

One  thing  Watson  did  learn  while  waiting  over  for  the 
next  stage  going  West,  and  that  was  that  his  firm  did  not 
manufacture  the  right  kind  of  footwear  for  the  Western 
trade.  He  learned  that  shoes  were  tabooed  entirely,  and 
the  kind  of  boots  the  cowboys  would  tolerate  must  have 
fancy  tops  and  high  heels.  This  much  he  informed  his 
firm  in  his  first  letter  East. 

But  what  he  had  not  yet  learned  was  that  not  only 
must  he  know  the  kind  of  article  for  the  market,  but  that 
a  transformation  must  take  place  in  Billy  Watson  before 
he  could  expect  to  take  many  orders  for  boots. 

Like  all  salesmen,  Watson  was  fond  of  spinning  yarns 
and  could  relate  some  good  ones,  too. 

The  opportunity  to  indulge  in  this  pastime  presented 
itself  the  first  evening  in  Weatherford. 

After  supper  the  proprietor,  all  the  guests  and  many 
of  the  male  population  of  the  town  assembled  in  the  office 
of  the  Carson  &  Lewis  House,  among  them,  three  or  four 
cowboys. 

It  was  not  long  before  Watson  monopolized  the  con- 
versation and  became  the  center  attraction  of  the  evening. 

The  cowboys  resented  this,  and  decided  that  the  "ten- 
derfoot" was  too  fresh,  and  sprung  the  old  range  gag  on 
him. 

Listening  patiently  to  one  of  his  most  brilliant  selec- 
tions, without  even  an  encouraging  smile,  one  of  their 
number  said : 

"Now,  stranger,  if  it  don't  make  any  difference  with 
you,  and  you  won't  get  angry,  we  don't  care  to  believe 
that  story." 

A  sickly  smile  overspread  Watson's  face,  and,  while 
very  much  chagrined  he  was  sharp  enough  to  see  that 
the  joke  was  on  him,  and  invited  all  hands  to  the  bar. 

The  next  morning,  before  the  stage  arrived,  the  pro- 

13 


194 

prietor,  who  took  a  friendly  interest  in  Watson,  called 
him  aside,  and  in  a  few  kind  words  informed  him  that  it 
would  be  better  to  lay  his  derby  aside  and  wear  a  hat 
more  in  harmony  with  his  surroundings.  Quick  to  see 
the  logic  in  the  suggestion,  he  bought  a  broad-brim  Stet- 
son, which  met  the  approval  of  the  cowboys. 

But  it  was  only  after  his  experience  in  the  town  of 
Comanche  that  Watson  acknowledged  that  he  was  fully 
initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  the  "Wild  West." 

Here  he  met  congenial  spirits  who  led  him  to  a  humil- 
iating exhibition  of  his  skill  as  a  sprinter.  As  villainous 
a  plot  as  was  ever  hatched  by  conspirators  was  planned 
by  those  who  professed  to  be  his  friends. 

In  company  with  four  of  the  conspirators,  Watson  hired 
an  old  stagecoach  and  started  to  a  country  dance,  ten 
miles  distant.  In  the  meantime  ten  more  of  the  con- 
spirators, dressed  as  Comanches,  sneaked  out  of  town 
and  formed  an  ambuscade  where  the  road  dipped  through 
a  dark  ravine. 

When  the  stage  was  passing  through  the  defile  the  im- 
itation Indians  dashed  from  concealment,  whooping, 
shouting  and  firing  their  guns.  Four  grasped  the  horses 
by  their  bits  and  the  others  rusTied  to  the  stage.  Wat- 
son and  his  companions  jumped  out  and  tried  to  escape. 
Two  fell,  exclaiming  that  they  were  shot.  The  others 
took  the  lead  and  yelled  for  Watson  to  come  on.  In  the 
melee  they  ran  through  the  line  of  the  supposed  Indians 
and  headed  for  the  town.  After  a  spirited  chase,  during 
which  Watson's  companions  all  fell  from  the  fusilade 
kept  up  by  the  pursuing  Indians,  Bill  Watson  ran  into 
the  town  of  Comanche  more  dead  than  alive,  with  a  lurid 
story  to  relate. 

It  was  several  days  before  he  learned  the  truth  and 
was  willing  to  admit  that  even  a  clever  drummer  was  not 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  195 

equal  to  the  cunning  of  a  bunch  of  Texas  cow  punchers. 
To  Billy  Watson  it  was  so  realistic  that  he  manufactured 
a  hair-raising  story  that  had  all  the  elements  of  the  real 
thing. 

IN  BED  WITH  A  COUGAR 

In  the  spring  of  1879  Texas  and  Kentuck  visited  Jess 
Ellison's  cow  camp  on  the  North  Prong  of  Hubbard's 
creek  about  four  miles  southeast  of  Albany,  where  the 
boys  had  selected  a  temporary  camp  until  the  headquar- 
ters ranch  was  established  a  few  miles  below. 

The  camp  was  on  the  shore  of  a  deep  water  hole  under 
a  spreading  elm  tree. 

Both  Texas  and  Kentuck  were  welcome  in  any  cow 
camp  on  the  range,  and  always  enjoyed  these  outings. 

When  Sam  Jackson,  the  cook  on  this  occasion,  began 
to  hustle  provisions  for  supper,  he  discovered  that  the 
outfit  was  shy  on  meat,  and  appealed  to  Ellison.  When 
informed  of  the  situation,  Ellison  ordered  two  of  the 
boys  to  mount  their  ponies  and  drive  in  a  fat  yearling. 
The  yearling  was  butchered  and  the  carcass  hung  on  a 
limb  near  the  fire,  and  some  choice  portions  fried  for 
supper. 

The  conversation  while  eating  was  chiefly  relative  to 
the  depredations  of  a  large  cougar  that  had  been  killing 
calves  and  yearlings  on  the  range  along  North  Prong. 

"Riley  Carter  saw  the  blamed  thing  kill  one  of  Uncle 
George  Greer's  yearlings  last  week,  but  was  too  far  away 
to  secure  a  shot,"  said  Roe  Leffle,  one  of  Greer's  cowboys 
stopping  in  Ellison's  camp  over  night. 

"Yes,  he's  onto  his  job,  sure  enough,"  said  Sam  Jack- 
son ;  "he  has  killed  a  dozen  head  in  the  last  two  months. 
That's  part  of  our  business  to  hunt  him  down  and  kill 
him.  I  believe  he  has  a  den  in  the  rocky  bluff  below 
Royal's  place." 


196  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"Have  you  any  guns  and  dogs  in  camp?"  inquired 
Texas. 

"Two  long-barrel  Winchesters  and  that  old  hound 
— can't  run  much,  but  good  nose  for  the  trail." 

"Well,  Kentuck  and  I  will  remain  over  tomorrow,  and 
we  will  hunt  the  yellow  devil,"  remarked  Texas. 

"That's  just  what  I  would  suggest,"  said  Ellison.  "It 
will  be  exciting  sport  to  run  him  to  cover  and  take  a  pot- 
shot at  him." 

During  the  remainder  of  the  evening  the  conversation 
was  general;  no  particular  subject  of  interest  was  can- 
vassed by  the  group  around  the  fire. 

The  air  was  chilly  and  the  boys  made  what  was  called 
a  grand  spread ;  that  is,  they  laid  their  blankets  in  one 
large  bed  and  snuggled  up  together  to  keep  warm. 

When  all  had  retired  old  Tige,  the  hound,  curled  up 
on  one  side  of  the  blankets  and  it  was  not  long  until  the 
concert  of  snores  gave  unmistakable  evidence  that  the 
men  and  the  dog  were  wrapped  in  slumber. 

Sometime  near  midnight — that  hour  friendliest  to  sleep 
and  silence,  the  hour  when  "ghosts  walk  and  graveyards 
yawn," — something  happened. 

About  this  time  old  Tige  awoke  and  scented  danger  in 
the  air.  He  gave  an  ominous  sniff,  followed  by  a  sharp 
bark,  as  he  bravely  dashed  out  toward  the  tree  where  the 
carcass  of  the  yearling  hung.  For  the  briefest  part  of  a 
moment  there  was  a  low  whining  noise,  then  a  loud 
piercing  cat  squall,  mixed  with  the  sharp  painful  yelps  of 
the  hound  as  he  rushed  back  to  the  blankets  for  pro- 
tection. But  as  he  was  so  closely  followed  by  the  cougar 
that  he  could  not  stop,  both  dog  and  cougar  ran  over 
the  sleeping  forms  of  the  cow  punchers. 

It  would  be  hard  to  tell  which  was  scared  the  worst, 
the  dog,  the  cougar  or  the  men  under  the  blankets.  The 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  197 

cougar  gave  an  agonizing  screech  and  disappeared  like  a 
yellow  streak  in  the  night.  Jess  Ellison  and  Sam  Jack- 
son rolled  over  the  bank  into  the  water ;  Texas,  Kentuck 
and  the  rest  of  the  boys  took  to  the  open  prairie  and  ran 
some  distance  before  they  realized  the  situation.  The 
blamed  old  hound  was  scared  so  bad  he  sat  down  upon 
his  tail  and  howled.  It  was  almost  daylight  before  the 
camp  quieted  down. 

"Say,  Texas,"  said  Sam  Jackson  the  next  morning, 
"wasn't  that  the  darnedest  mixup  of  blankets,  cow  punch- 
ers, cougar  and  dog  you  ever  heard  of?" 

"Sure  thing,  Sam ;  but  I  would  not  think  that  it  re- 
quired a  cougar  to  compel  you  and  Jess  to  take  a  bath." 

"Depends  on  which  side  you  occupy  when  the  cougar 
arrives,  Texas.  Now  if  I  had  slept  on  your  side,  perhaps 
I  would  have  run  instead  of  attempting  to  swim." 

.When  the  morning's  repast  was  finished  ponies  were 
saddled  and  Texas,  Kentuck,  Ellison  and  Jackson  rode 
up  North  Prong  to  the  rocky  bluff  below  Royal's  ranch. 

No  more  favorable  place  for  a  cougar's  den  could  be 
found.  The  stream  washed  the  base  of  a  rocky  ledge, 
almost  perpendicular,  with  large  cavities  covered  with 
dense  thickets  of  underbrush  and  catclaws. 

Climbing  to  the  top  of  the  ledge,  Texas  and  Kentuck, 
each  armed  with  Winchester  rifles,  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
while  the  other  boys  beat  the  brush  up  and  down  the 
stream.  Evidence  of  the  recent  presence  of  the  big  cat 
was  discovered,  and  the  hunters  were  on  the  qui  vive  for 
the  sudden  appearance  of  the  cougar. 

It  was  about  noon  when  the  old  dog  struck  a  warm 
trail  and  soon  located  the  cougar.  With  an  angry  scream 
of  defiance  the  big  cat  broke  cover  and  ran  up  the  body 
of  a  leaning  elm  tree  that  hung  over  the  water.  But  the 
intervening  trees  prevented  the  two  riflemen  from  secur- 


198  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

ing  a  good  shot.  In  the  meantime  the  old  hound  barked 
at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  while  the  cougar  snarled  and  spit 
in  its  anger. 

By  careful  maneuvering  Texas  secured  an  advan- 
tageous position  and  drew  a  bead  on  the  cougar,  but  be- 
fore he  could  pull  the  trigger  the  cat  sprang  to  the  top 
of  another  small  tree  and  Kentuck  leveled  his  gun  to 
fire.  Again  the  cougar  sprang,  this  time  upon  the  rocky 
ledge  and  ran  toward  Texas,  passing  within  a  few  feet 
of  where  he  was  standing.  But  with  rare  presence  of 
mind  he  stood  his  ground  and  fired  a  ball  into  the  beast 
behind  its  fore  shoulder.  With  an  unearthly  scream,  like 
the  wail  of  a  dying  woman,  the  big  cat  made  a  spring 
at  her  slayer.  But  the  leaden  messenger  had  penetrated 
her  heart  and  she  fell  a  mass  of  yellow  at  his  feet,  jerk- 
ing in  her  death  struggle  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  where 
she  fell  into  the  water  below.  But  Sam  Jackson  threw 
his  rope  and  dragged  her  to  the  shore,  and  he  and  Jess 
Ellison  removed  the  skin.  When  stretched  to  full  length 
this  large  female  cougar  measured  nine  feet  from  tip  of 
nose  to  the  tip  of  its  tail. 

Texas  was  the  hero  of  the  hour,  having  stood  his 
ground  in  the  face  of  danger  and  killed  a  ferocious  wild 
beast  that  had  long  depredated  on  the  herds  of  the  cat- 
tle men. 

ROPING  A  FULL-GROWN  DEER  ON  THE  RANGE 

However  honest  might  be  the  intentions  of  the  trail 
boss,  it  frequently  happened  that  an  outfit  from  Southern 
Texas,  driving  a  large  herd  to  Kansas  or  other  northern 
points,  accumulated  many  stragglers  that  drifted  into  the 
herds  from  the  local  ranges  along  the  trail. 

To  protect  their  interests,  many  of  the  large  ranches 
in  Shackelford,  Throckmorton,  Archer  and  Baylor  coun- 
ties sent  their  cowboys  to  the  crossing  on  Red  river, 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  1QQ 

where  the  stragglers  were  cut  out  and  driven  back  to 
their  home  range. 

On  one  occasion  Texas,  Luke  McCabe  and  Mart 
Gentry  were  sent  north  as  far  as  Doan's  store,  at  the 
trail  crossing. 

They  were  absent  ten  days  on  the  trip  and  cut  a  herd 
of  thirty  head,  and  started  the  bunch  south.  But  while 
holding  them  over  night  there  was  a  stampede,  and  the 
steers  raced  down  the  river  and  were  lost  in  the  brakes. 

After  following  traces  of  the  runaways  the  next  morn- 
ing, until  they  were  lost  in  the  S.  B.  Burnett  range,  the 
boys  scattered,  under  agreement  of  a  rendezvous  on  the 
Big  Wichita  at  the  mouth  of  Beaver  creek. 

Fortunately  Burk  Burnett  maintained  a  line-riding 
camp  at  this  point,  and  when  Texas  and  the  other  boys 
arrived  Tom  Pickett,  the  range  boss,  extended  them  the 
usual  hospitality,  and  they  decided  to  make  this  a  com- 
mon point  from  which  to  ride  the  range,  in  hope  of 
rounding  up  the  runaways. 

The  first  night  in  this  camp  was  out  of  the  ordinary  in 
two  respects.  The  Burnett  outfit  possessed  a  pack  of 
hounds  and  a  wild  Irishman  by  the  name  of  Pat  O'Tool. 

After  supper  Pickett,  who  was  a  sportsman  when  the 
opportunity  offered,  invited  the  visitors  to  go  cat  hunting. 
Texas  and  O'Tool  were  the  only  two  who  accepted, 
O'Tool  being  the  new  cook  for  the  Burnett  outfit. 

Texas  and  Pickett  mounted  their  ponies  and  the  Irish- 
man followed  on  the  pack  mule. 

It  was  a  moonlit  night,  but  shortly  after  they  started 
a  bank  of  clouds  came  up  in  the  southwest,  and  when  the 
hounds  struck  a  trail  and  were  in  full  swing  a  light 
thunder  shower  burst  upon  the  trio,  veiling  the  moon 
and  casting  a  dark  shadow  over  the  valley. 

The  pack  of  hounds  pushed  the  game  to  cover  in  a  thick- 


200  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

et  along  the  bank  of  Beaver  creek.  The  animal  was  at  bay 
surrounded  by  the  dogs  when  the  three  hunters  arrived 
on  the  scene. 

By  the  aid  of  intermittent  flashes  of  lightning  they  in- 
distinctly saw  something  in  the  thicket. 

"What  do  you  reckon  it  is,  Pickett?"  said  Texas. 

"I  expect  that  it  is  a  bobcat  or  a  coyote,"  replied 
Pickett. 

"But  seems  to  me  it  looks  larger  than  either,"  remarked 
Texas. 

"Look  out,  boys,"  said  Pickett,  "when  she  flashes  again 
I'll  rope  the  dad-blasted  thing."  Suiting  his  action  to  his 
words,  he  uncoiled  his  lariat 

True  to  his  promise,  he  threw  his  lariat  and  made  fast 
to  the  animal,  which  proved  to  be  a  full-grown  buck 
deer.  Then  there  followed  one  of  the  greatest  scrim- 
mages you  ever  heard  of. 

That  cussed  deer  jumped  straight  up  in  the  air,  snort- 
ed, bucked  and  ran  in  a  circle,  winding  the  lariat  around 
O'Tool  and  his  mule. 

The  rope  was  wet  from  the  rain,  and  when  the  cold, 
wet  strands  struck  his  muleship,  he  threw  down  his  head 
and  began  to  buck,  pitching  the  unfortunate  Irishman  off 
in  front,  and  prancing  all  over  him  with  his  hoofs. 

In  the  meantime  Pickett  and  Texas,  with  the  aid  of 
the  dogs,  succeeded  in  throwing  and  tying  the  deer,  with 
all  four  feet  together. 

By  this  time  O'Tool  had  scrambled  to  a  sitting  posture, 
and  was  carefully  examining  his  anatomy,  to  find  where 
he  was  injured. 

"Holy  Mither,  I'm  killed  entirely,  and  that  heathen 
bruit  of  a  mule  has  broken  every  bone  in  me  body,  bad 
luck  to  the  divil.  I'll  be  a  dead  gossoon  and  never  see 
the  bogs  of  ould  Ireland  again." 


AMUSING   INCIDENTS  201 

"Oh,  get  up,  Pat,  and  lend  a  hand  to  tie  this  deer  on 
the  mule." 

"May  the  divil  fly  away  wid  yez,  and  the  ould  witches 
comb  yez  hair  wid  a  garden  rake  if  I  iver  listen  to  yez 
soft  voice,  me  honey.  Here  I  am  a  respectable  Irish  gen- 
tleman, wid  me  feelings  hurt  and  me  best  suit  of  clothes 
ruined,  all  for  nothing  at  all,  at  all." 

"Oh,  cut  it  out,  Pat,  and  let's  go,"  said  Pickett. 

And  the  deer  was  carried  into  camp  alive. 

CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  RANGE 

The  old-time  cowboy  made  the  most  out  of  life  that 
circumstances  would  permit,  and  never  became  discour- 
aged or  backed  down  along  the  line  of  duty,  no  matter 
how  large  the  obstacle  that  confronted  him. 

When  out  on  the  open  range,  far  from  the  home  ranch, 
with  no  white  man's  habitation  within  miles  of  his  lonely 
camp,  where  he  and  his  companions  spent  the  hours  of 
evenings,  he  always  managed  to  extract  a  certain  degree 
of  comfort  and  amusement  out  of  the  situation.  It  often 
happened  that  the  holidays  and  even  Christmas,  were 
spent  in  some  sheltered  valley  or  canyon,  where  a  win- 
ter's camp  was  established  to  keep  back  the  drifting  cat- 
tle. These  camps  were  generally  supplied  with  a  dugout 
among  the  brakes  or  on  a  mountain  side  near  a  deep 
water  hole,  convenient  for  line  riding. 

During  the  winter  of  1877  J.  C.  Lynch's  outfit  main- 
tained a  camp  on  the  headwaters  of  North  Prong  of  Hub- 
bard's  creek,  near  the  south  side  of  a  low  mountain  that 
sheltered  the  camp  from  the  north  wind. 

It  was  an  ideal  place  for  a  camp.  North  Prong  made 
an  abrupt  turn  where  the  water  washed  the  base  of  a 
bluff  during  the  flood-tide  of  the  spring  rains.  In  the 
side  of  this  bluff  a  dugout  had  been  excavated  and  cov- 


202  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

ered  with  timber  and  dirt.  A  rough  door  shut  out  coy- 
otes and  other  prowling  varmints  when  the  boys  were  ab- 
sent. Within  this  dugout  the  men  bunked  and  kept  their 
provisions. 

Ed  Tucker,  Joe  Batts  and  Pat  O'Laughlin  did  the  hon- 
ors when  they  invited  Texas  and  Kentuck  to  eat  Christ- 
mas dinner  with  them. 

A  wild  turkey  gobbler  had  been  killed  the  night  previ- 
ous, and  was  suspended  from  the  tip  of  a  bended  sapling 
over  a  bed  of  live  mesquite  coals.  O'Laughlin  had  been 
turning  and  basting  it  all  morning,  and  as  the  noon  hour 
approached  it  was  brown  and  juicy. 

Joe  Batts  used  his  best  skill  making  up  a  batch  of 
dough  and  forming  it  into  a  large  pone,  well  seasoned 
with  tallow  for  shortening.  This  was  baked  in  a  large 
oven  over  a  bed  of  coals  and  the  embers  piled  upon  the 
lid. 

Ed  Tucker  exhibited  the  perfection  of  experience  in 
the  art  of  coffee-making,  brewing  it  strong  enough,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "to  hold  up  an  iron  wedge." 

In  the  meantime,  Kentuck,  who  had  not  forgotten  the 
recipe  for  making  "Tom  and  Jerry,"  soon  had  the  mix- 
ture concocted  to  "the  Queen's  taste." 

Texas,  who  claimed  to  understand  the  anatomy  of  a 
turkey,  was  busy  sharpening  a  butcher  knife,  prepara- 
tory to  scientifically  dissecting  the  bird  at  the  proper 
time. 

Therefore,  it  was  a  jovial  bunch  of  good  fellows  that 
assembled  around  the  rough  festival  board  that  bright 
Christmas  day. 

A  bottle  of  pickles  and  a  can  of  peaches  gave  the 
proper  relish,  and  the  "Tom  and  Jerry"  made  the  spirits 
arise  as  fast  as  a  glass  of  spirits  went  down. 

'Tis  true  that  it  was  a  Christmas  dinner  in  the  wilds, 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  203 

far  removed  from  the  conventional  room,  table  and  spot- 
less white  cloth,  set  with  artistic  care  and  loaded  with 
delicious  viands.  'Tis  equally  true  that  the  board  was 
not  graced  with  the  presence  of  lovely  woman,  whose 
smiles  and  fluffy-ruffles,  lend  sunshine  to  the  Christmas 
dinner.  But,  nevertheless,  the  good  cheer  and  comrade- 
ship on  that  occasion  will  never  be  forgotten  by  those 
living  who  participated  in  the  Christmas  dinner  on  North 
Prong. 

"Say,  boys,  good-by,"  said  Texas;  "Kentuck  and  I 
have  had  a  splendid  time,  and  may  you  live  long  and 
prosper."  And  the  comrades  rode  back  to  Albany  well 
pleased  with  the  recreation. 

It  was  occasions  like  this  that  cemented  the  friendship 
of  those  who  lived  on  the  frontier. 

Nowhere  on  top  of  earth  was  the  brotherhood  of  man 
better  exemplified  than  among  the  cowboys  of  the  prairie 
country.  Both  time  and  money  were  at  the  disposal  of 
your  friend.  Even  life  itself  backed  up  that  friendship 
when  necessary  to  support  a  comrade.  "Do  unto  others 
as  you  wish  them  to  do  unto  you"  was  the  unwritten 
law  lived  up  to  by  the  knights  of  "The  Quirt  and  Spur." 

"Rough  and  ready,  bold  and  brave, 
Money  and  friendship  he  freely  gave; 
A  good  Samaritan  in  time  of  need, 
Flying  to  the  rescue  with  uttermost  speed." 

FORT  MUGGINSVILLE 

On  an  elevated  plateau  within  100  yards  of  the  Clear 
Fork  of  the  Brazos  river,  not  far  from  the  mouth  of 
Deep  creek,  the  early  settlers  found  it  necessary  for  the 
protection  of  their  families  to  build  a  large  stockade,  in- 
closing about  five  acres  of  land.  Within  this  enclosure 
they  built  rude  log  huts  to  furnish  shelter  and  protection 
against  the  blasts  of  winter  and  the  heat  of  summer.  In 


204  THE   QUIRT   AND   THE   SPUR 

the  center  of  the  stockade  they  built  a  schoolhouse  large 
enough  to  accommodate  all  the  children  and  the  teacher. 
On  Sundays  this  house  was  used  for  divine  services.  The 
stockade  was  about  eight  feet  high,  with  loopholes,  af- 
fording an  excellent  defense  against  Indian  attacks. 

During  the  years  from  1863  to  1875  the  families  of  all 
ranchmen  within  a  radius  of  100  miles  lived  at  Fort  Mug- 
ginsville,  often  remaining  for  several  weeks  at  a  time  with- 
out any  protection,  except  a  few  old  men  and  boys.  But 
every  woman  in  those  days  was  a  heroine,  accustomed 
to  using  the  rifle  with  deadly  effect.  During  these  periods 
the  ranchmen  and  their  cowboys  were  out  on  the  open 
range,  rounding-up,  marking  and  branding  cattle,  camp- 
ing wherever  night  overtook  them,  often  compelled  to 
fight  bands  of  Indians  to  prevent  them  carrying  off  the 
saddle  ponies  belonging  to  the  outfit. 

Within  the  stockade  the  monotonous  life  was  relieved 
by  the  attendance  of  the  children  at  the  school  and  the 
occasional  visit  of  the  frontier  preacher. 

The  school  teacher,  one  William  Veal,  who  afterward 
became  one  of  the  leading  lawyers  of  Northwest  Texas, 
was  an  original  character,  overflowing  with  humor  and 
always  ready  to  perpetrate  a  practical  joke,  that  some- 
times complicated  matters  and  introduced  awkward  and 
ludicrous  situations. 

Among  the  ranchmen's  families  who  resided  in  this  lit- 
tle colony  were  the  wife,  son  and  two  daughters  of  Uncle 
Joe  Matthews,  a  typical  frontiersman,  big-hearted,  hon- 
est and  frank,  always  ready  to  come  to  the  aid  of  a  friend 
in  distress.  And,  with  few  exceptions,  everybody  was 
Uncle  Joe's  friend. 

After  the  fall  round-ups  the  cattle  were  turned  loose 
to  drift  on  the  open  range  until  the  grass  became  green 
in  the  spring.  Consequently,  during  the  winter  season 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  205 

the  ranchmen  and  cowboys  repaired  to  Fort  Muggins- 
ville  for  the  three  months'  idle  time.  One  can  imagine 
how  soon  this  monotonous  life  of  being  penned  up  in  a 
five-acre  stockade  would  affect  a  live,  robust  cowboy. 
So,  when  Bill  Veal  taxed  his  mental  faculties  to  devise 
amusement  for  the  boys,  his  diversions  were  hailed  with 
delight,  especially  the  organization  of  a  debating  society. 

While  others  hailed  the  prospect  of  this  new  diversion 
with  delight,  Uncle  Joe  shook  his  head  in  a  dubious  man- 
ner, and  seemed  to  possess  a  premonition  of  trouble 
ahead.  Now,  the  old  gent  was  easily  embarrassed,  and  also 
had  a  slight  defect  in  his  vocal  organs  that  added  to  his 
confusion  when  called  on  to  take  part  in  the  evening's 
exercises.  And  notwithstanding  the  close  ties  of  friend- 
ship between  him  and  Bill  Veal,  he  always  viewed  with 
suspicion  any  attempt  on  Bill's  part  to  introduce  any  new 
form  of  entertainment.  He  had  learned  from  past  ex- 
perience that  Veal  did  not  hesitate  to  place  him  in  an 
awkward  position  whenever  opportunity  presented. 

Some  men  seek  honors  and  other  men  have  honors 
thrust  upon  them.  Uncle  Joe  belonged  to  the  latter  class. 
For  it  soon  became  apparent  that  he  had  been  selected  to 
take  a  leading  part  in  these  debates.  And  though  he 
begged  and  pleaded  with  his  tormentors  to  be  left  off  the 
program,  his  name  always  headed  the  list  in  opposition  to 
Bill  Veal.  The  only  saving  clause  in  the  situation  was  that 
he  never  lost  his  temper  and  even  laughed  over  his  own 
mistakes.  Veal  possessed  an  easy  flow  of  words  as  well 
as  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  consequently  found  Uncle 
Joe  an  easy  mark  for  his  witticisms. 

But  as  if  these  trying  ordeals  were  not  enough  to  ex- 
haust the  patience  of  a  saint,  much  less  a  whole-souled 
gentleman  who  was  willing  to  undergo  mental  tortures 
to  amuse  his  friends,  the  crowning  act  of  conspiracy 


206  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

against  Uncle  Joe's  peace  of  mind  was  his  appointment 
to  the  office  of  justice  of  the  peace. 

Some  few  weeks  prior  to  the  organization  of  the  de- 
bating society,  the  cattlemen  recognized  the  necessity  of 
having  some  semblance  of  legal  authority  to  appeal  to  in 
case  of  emergency,  but  as  both  Shackelford  and  Throck- 
morton  were  unorganized  counties,  attached  to  Palo 
Pinto  for  judicial  purposes,  it  became  necessary  to  have 
a  justice  of  the  peace  at  large  for  the  whole  community. 
The  enthusiastic  friends  of  Uncle  Joe,  without  his  knowl- 
edge, secured  his  appointment  to  the  office,  and  after  a 
great  deal  of  persuasion  induced  him  to  qualify.  But  be- 
fore he  became  acquainted  with  the  onerous  duties  of 
his  office  circumstances  and  Bill  Veal  were  his  undoing. 

As  strange  as  it  may  seem,  Dan  Cupid  visited  this 
sparsely  settled  district  of  the  Texas  frontier  and  shot 
his  arrow  into  the  hearts  of  a  lad  and  lassie  within  the 
narrow  limits  of  Mugginsville.  In  almost  any  commun- 
ity this  would  have  been  an  ordinary  event,  arousing  only 
a  passing  interest.  But  within  the  stockade  where  the 
settlers  were  like  one  large  family,  every  one  took  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  lovers. 

As  soon  as  the  engagement  of  ( for  the  purposes  of  this 
story)  Tom  Guier  and  Lizzie  Lafet  was  made  known 
there  was  a  general  consultation  held  by  the  older  and 
wiser  heads.  And  as  the  young  couple  desired  that  the 
matter  be  not  long  delayed,  it  was  decided  that  all  ar- 
rangements could  be  made  within  a  week,  for  necessity 
reduced  the  costumes  of  the  bride  and  groom  to  a  mini- 
mum, by  reason  of  the  great  distance  from  any  place 
where  they  could  be  purchased.  This  reduced  the  prepa- 
rations to  preparing  the  wedding  dinner  and  securing  the 
proper  authority  to  perform  the  ceremony. 

The  itinerant  Methodist  minister  having,  after  a  brief 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  207 

visit,  departed  the  week  before,  with  no  probability  of 
his  return  within  the  next  six  months,  his  presence  on 
the  occasion  was  out  of  the  question.  The  next  legal 
authority,  except  Uncle  Joe,  was  150  miles  distant,  too 
far  away  to  be  considered.  Consequently,  notwithstand- 
ing all  of  his  protests,  Uncle  Joe  was  told  to  consider 
himself  engaged  for  the  occasion.  In  his  dilemma  the 
good  old  gentleman  turned  to  his  friend  Veal  for  advice, 
though  he  had  many  proofs  of  his  disloyalty.  Now, 
though  Veal  was  a  true  and  loyal  friend  of  Uncle  Joe's 
and  always  helped  him  in  his  business  affairs  and  never 
failed  to  respond  when  called  on,  when  it  came  to  an  op- 
portunity to  have  amusement  at  his  friend's  expense  he 
did  not  stop  to  consider  the  solemnity  of  even  the  mar- 
riage ceremony.  Consequently,  Uncle  Joe  proved  an 
easy  victim  to  Veal's  blandishments,  and  with  confidence 
disarmed  of  all  suspicion  he  followed  Veal  from  the  fort 
one  evening  to  the  open  prairie,  where  they  could  recline 
on  the  grass  beneath  a  liveoak  tree,  and  where  they  could 
have  a  confidential  talk,  and  where  the  confiding  old  gen- 
tleman listened  to  the  advice  of  his  friend,  who  volun- 
teered to  assist  and  instruct  him  in  the  necessary  mar- 
riage ceremony.  But  he  was  not  an  apt  scholar,  and 
jumbled  the  teacher's  words  in  a  shocking  way  that  was 
not  at  all  promising.  He  mixed  up  the  classic  words  of 
Veal  with  the  localisms  of  the  frontier. 

As  the  time  approached  for  the  trying  ordeal,  Uncle 
Joe  grew  nervous  and  did  not  seem  to  enjoy  his  accus- 
tomed meals,  and  his  good  wife  Catherine  became  anx- 
ious, and  wanted  to  dose  him  with  herb  tea,  but  he  sadly 
shook  his  head  and  beckoned  his  friend  Veal  aside  for 
another  rehearsal. 

The  wedding  day  arrived.  It  was  an  ideal  day  in  mid- 
winter. The  crystallized  dew  sparkled  like  diamonds  as 


208  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

the  first  rays  of  the  sun  pierced  the  crisp  atmosphere  of 
the  early  morning.  All  nature  began  to  greet  the  king 
of  day  as  his  bright  face  came  in  view  over  the  top  of 
the  sloping  hills  in  the  east.  The  lowing  of  the  cattle, 
neighing  of  the  horses  and  shouts  of  the  cowboys  an- 
nounced that  Mugginsville  had  chased  the  drowsy  god 
of  sleep  over  the  stockade,  and  that  the  inhabitants  were 
preparing  to  begin  the  routine  duties  of  the  day.  In  a 
comparatively  short  time  the  buzz  of  daily  life  was  in 
full  force  and  Mugginsville  assumed  its  normal  every- 
day condition. 

The  wedding  ceremony  was  announced  to  take  place 
at  2.  p.  m.,  and  as  a  general  invitation  had  been  extended 
to  the  whole  range,  the  cowboys  from  100  miles  distant 
were  expected  to  arrive  during  the  morning  hours,  for 
winter  and  summer  alike  they  were  prepared  to  camp 
out,  and  were  always  at  home  on  the  prairie  when  night 
overtook  them.  Many,  no  doubt,  had  camped  within 
easy  distance  the  night  before. 

The  importance  of  the  occasion  weighed  heavily  upon 
Uncle  Joe's  mind,  and  he  was  anything  but  gay  on  this 
festal  occasion.  And  when  he  hunted  up  Bill  Veal  for 
a  final  consultation,  he  looked  like  a  motherless  calf.  The 
colloquy  that  took  place  on  this  occasion  of  the  final  re- 
hearsal of  the  rite  of  matrimony  can  only  be  based  on  the 
story  often  repeated  by  the  Hon.  William  Veal  in  after 
years.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  ludicrous  in 
the  extreme,  and  something  after  the  following  style  of 
frontier  lingo: 

"Say,  Bill,  I'm  about  to  quit — stampede — leave  the  bed 
ground  and  take  to  the  brush.  Blamed  if  this  marriage 
business  hasn't  locoed  me.  I  can't  remember  that  dod- 
gasted  stuff  you  have  been  feeding  me  for  a  week.  Say, 
Bill,  what's  the  use  in  me  bucking  around  in  a  bald-faced 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  209 

shirt  and  a  fried  collar,  like  a  two-year-old  in  heel-fly 
time?  Let  the  blamed  idiots  wait  until  the  sky-pilot 
comes  back  again.  I  don't  sabe  this  J.  P.  business — never 
hankered  after  it,  but  you  blamed  fools  drove  me  into  the 
corral  and  branded  me  before  I  could  kick." 

"Now,  look  here,  Uncle  Joe,"  said  Veal,  "you  can't 
quit  the  drive  now,  and  disgrace  Catherine  and  the  chil- 
dren. Every  galoot  on  the  range  within  100  miles  of 
Mugginsville  will  be  here  to  see  you  hitch  'em  up  in 
double  harness — the  chips  are  all  stacked,  and  you  will 
have  to  play  the  game  out — no  chance  to  take  the  back 
trail  now,  Uncle  Joe.  Of  course,  you  feel  a  little  upset, 
but  just  think  how  happy  those  mavericks  will  be  when 
you  put  the  legal  brand  on  them,  and  they  will  be  allowed 
to  herd  together  without  any  one  objecting  to  the  mark 
and  brand." 

"Oh,  chuck  the  whole  business,  Bill ;  I'm  sure  sick,  and 
I  know  I'll  ball  up  in  the  middle  of  the  trail,  with  that 
blamed  lingo  you  have  been  giving  me." 

"Here,  Uncle  Joe,  brace  up,"  and  Veal  pulled  a  sus- 
picious bottle  from  the  bosom  of  his  shirt  and  handed  it 
to  his  friend.  After  each  had  paid  his  respects  to  the 
contents,  the  rehearsal  was  gone  through  for  the  last 
time  and  they  returned  to  the  hustling  little  fort. 

But  Uncle  Joe  became  absent-minded  and  passed  by 
his  most  intimate  friends  without  noticing  them.  The 
ranchmen  and  cowboys  missed  his  usual  cheery  greeting. 
He  walked  as  if  in  a  dream,  and  did  not  answer  Aunt 
Catherine  when  she  called  to  him  from  the  cabin  door. 
If  ever  the  victim  of  malicious  fun-making  suffered  the 
full  penalty  of  his  credulity  it  was  this  confiding  old  gen- 
tleman who  would  not  have  hurt  the  feelings  of  a  child, 
much  less  to  have  imposed  upon  his  friends.  In  Uncle 
Joe's  case  it  was  downright  cruelty  to  burden  him  with 

14 


210  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

the  legal  responsibility  of  the  marriage.  Nature  had  en- 
dowed him  with  a  kind  and  loving  disposition,  over- 
flowing with  generosity.  His  simple  life  on  the  frontier 
had  removed  him  from  the  wiles  and  sharp  dealings  of 
competition,  and  he  was  unfitted  to  cope  with  deception 
of  any  kind,  much  less  to  suspect  his  best  friends,  for  his 
whole  life  had  been  an  open  book  read  by  all  men.  Con- 
sequently, he  overestimated  the  importance  of  his  posi- 
tion and  tried  to  measure  up  to  it.  For  once  in  his  life 
he  could  not  enter  into  the  jolly  spirit  of  the  occasion. 
He  had  been  removed  from  his  accustomed  place  as  host, 
and  was  no  longer  the  "hail  fellow  well  met."  It  seemed 
to  him  that  he  had  been  set  aside  as  a  vicarious  sacrifice 
by  his  friends  and  neighbors.  It  even  sobered  Bill  Veal 
to  see  his  friend  so  dejected,  and  caused  him  for  the 
moment  pangs  of  regret.  But  matters  had  proceeded  too 
far  for  him  to  call  a  halt. 

The  crucial  moment  arrived,  and  the  little  plaza  around 
the  schoolhouse  was  crowded  with  the  guests.  The  bride 
and  groom,  as  presentable  as  the  circumstances  would 
permit,  came  through  a  lane  made  by  the  cowboys  to 
where  Uncle  Joe,  supported  by  Bill  Veal,  stood  in  front 
of  the  schoolhouse  door,  and  all  the  men  doffed  their 
hats  and  a  silence,  so  profound  that  it  made  Uncle  Joe 
tremble,  fell  over  the  assembly. 

One  minute — two  minutes — three  minutes  before  Uncle 
Joe  could  summon  courage  enough  to  speak. 

He  looked  helplessly  at  the  eager  faces  before  him, 
coughed  nervously,  wiped  his  face  several  times  with  his 
bandana,  gasped  and  finally  said : 

"Tom  Guir,  are  you  plumb  sure  that  you  love  Lizzie 
Lafet?" 

"Sure  I  do,  Uncle  Joe,"  replied  Tom. 

"And  you  want  me  to  give  you  a  legal  bill  of  sale  to 
all  right  and  title  to  mark  and  brand  her  ?" 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  211 

"That's  what  I'm  here  for,  Uncle  Joe." 

"Lizzie,  has  Tom  always  played  fair  with  you — didn't 
sneak  around  on  the  blind  side  of  you  to  palaver — has 
made  an  honest  and  square  deal  with  you?" 

"He  did  the  square  thing,  Uncle  Joe." 

"Then  I  (aside  to  Veal:  'Say,  Bill,  I'm  going  to  cut 
out  all  that  funny  business')  declare  you  two  to  be  hus- 
band and  wife.  (Oh,  say,  Bill,  I  forgot  all  about  that 
bursting  asunder  business,  and  I'm  going  to  stop  the  deal 
right  now.)  Now  I'm  done — you  youngsters  trot  off  and 
behave  yourselves." 

A  loud  shout  went  up  from  the  crowd,  a  rush  was  made 
for  the  bride  and  groom  and  a  general  handshaking  took 
place.  Everybody  seemed  as  happy  as  if  it  were  their 
own  wedding  day.  Uncle  Joe  soon  recovered  his  wonted 
cheerfulness,  and  was  the  liveliest  kid  in  the  bunch. 

The  schoolhouse  was  turned  into  a  banquet  hall,  and 
a  royal  feast  was  spread.  The  bill  of  fare  consisted  of 
wild  turkeys,  venison,  prairie  chickens  and  quail ;  pones 
of  light  bread,  hot  biscuits  and  hot  coffee ;  wild  plum  jelly 
and  grape  preserves ;  cakes  and  pies  in  abundance.  And 
it  was  the  jolliest  crowd  that  ever  assembled  around  a 
banquet  table  to  enjoy  to  its  full  measure  the  true  hap- 
piness of  those  who  bow  not  to  caste  or  position  in  so- 
ciety. 

After  the  banquet  the  evening  and  the  night  following 
was  given  over  to  dancing  and  other  merry  rounds  of 
pleasure,  that  kept  pace  with  the  hands  of  the  clock  that 
hung  on  the  schoolhouse  wall. 

A  MARRIAGE  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  conditions  during  a  contin- 
uous rain  in  the  semi-arid  district  of  Northwest  Texas. 
For  ten  days  the  heavy  rain  clouds  hung  low  over  the 


212  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

entire  landscape,  and  everything  was  soaking  wet.  As 
an  Englishman  would  say,  'it  was  beastly  weather.'  The 
great  watersheds  of  the  open  prairie  had  turned  its  tor- 
rents into  the  valleys,  and  the  dry  beds  of  the  canyons 
had  become  rushing  rivers,  obliterating  all  traces  of  the 
streams  that  ordinarily  accommodated  the  head  waters. 

Kentuck  was  sitting  in  the  cooped-up  office  of  the  old 
picket  courthouse,  looking  out  through  the  small  8  by  10 
glass  window,  at  the  gloomy  sky  and  misty  prairie,  while 
the  continuous  dripping  of  the  eves  gave  him  a  miserable, 
depressed  feeling.  He  came  nearer  being  real  homesick 
than  at  any  time  since  he  left  the  mountains  of  his  native 
State.  As  if  in  response  to  his  ardent  desire  for  some- 
thing to  happen,  there  slouched  into  the  room  the  drip- 
ping figure  of  Ed  Tucker,  one  of  Lynch's  cowboys. 

"Hello,  Tucker,"  said  Kentuck,  "what  brings  you  to 
town  through  the  rain?" 

"Very  important  business,  Kentuck." 

"I'll  stake  my  money  on  that,  Tucker,  or  you  would 
not  be  riding  a  day  like  this." 

"You  bet  it  had  to  come  off  or  you  would  never  have 
seen  this  coyote.  And  you  have  got  to  play  a  hand  in 
this  game,  too,  Kentuck,  so  you  might  as  well  pull  on 
your  slicker,  old  man." 

"What,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  came  after  me  on  a 
day  like  this?" 

"Yep,  can't  do  the  job  myself,  and  I'm  afraid  it  will 
spoil  if  it  is  put  off." 

"What's  all  this  chin  music  about,  anyway,  Tucker?" 

"Why,  Joe  Batts  has  roped  old  man  McCarty's  gal  and 
wants  you  to  brand  her,  so  he  will  have  a  legal  right  to 
put  her  in  his  corral." 

"Gee-whiz,  Tucker,  they  will  have  to  put  it  off  until 
the  weather  clears.  Every  hole  on  the  prairie  is  full  and 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  213 

running  over,  and  we  can't  find  a  pony  or  ford  a  single 
stream." 

"Yep,  that's  so,  but  we  can  swim  them." 

"But,  I  tell  you,  I  haven't  any  pony,  and  I'll  be  dod- 
blamed  if  I'm  going  out  to  hunt  one." 

"Got  no  excuse,  Kentuck.  I  led  one  in,  and  she  can 
swim  like  a  duck." 

"Say,  Tucker,  you  are  not  serious,  I  hope.  Why,  it 
would  be  worse  than  foolishness  for  me  to  go  out  in  this 
weather.  Besides,  it  doesn't  give  me  any  time  to  study 
up  an  appropriate  ceremony.  I  don't  know  a  thing  about 
tying  the  matrimonial  knot,  Tucker." 

"Sorry,  old  man,  but  Joe  said  I  was  to  take  no  ex- 
cuse." 

"Now,  see  here,  Tucker,  be  reasonable  for  once  in 
your  life.  I  can't  see  any  harm  in  delaying  this  matter 
for  a  day  or  two." 

"Of  course,  you  don't,  Kentuck,  'cause  you  are  not  go- 
ing to  be  married,  but  you  are  going  to  attend  to  this 
marrying  business  all  the  same,  so  get  ready." 

"Oh,  go  to  thunder.  I  suppose  there  is  no  use  argu- 
ing with  you?" 

"Now,  that's  sensible,  Kentuck.  You  didn't  suppose  I 
was  going  back  without  you,  after  swimming  all  the  way 
here,  did  you  ?" 

"How  many  streams  are  there  to  swim,  Tucker  ?" 

"North  Prong,  Salt  Prong  and  Deep  creek  are  the 
main  ones,  and  a  whole  lot  of  small  draws." 

"Great  goodness,  we  will  be  under  water  half  of  the 
time." 

"Yep,  most  of  the  time." 

"Say,  Tucker,  you  are  not  really  in  earnest.  You 
know  you  are  only  trying  to  play  a  practical  joke,  and 
give  me  a  ducking  in  North  Prong,  and  have  the  laugh 


214       THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

on  me.  I  haven't  forgotten  the  time  you  played  one  on 
me  by  lending  me  that  old  gray  cayuse  that  threw  me 
several  somersaults,  while  all  you  yaps  split  your  sides 
laughing." 

"Hold  on,  Kentuck;  this  is  no  monkey  business,  old 
man ;  it  is  plumb  downright  serious.  Joe  will  have  to  be 
spliced  to-day  or  wait  until  the  fall  round-ups  are  all  over. 
Why,  you  wouldn't  treat  a  sneaking  coyote  that  mean, 
Kentuck?  Just  think  of  it — making  Joe  wait  six  months 
— he  would  pine  away  to  a  shadow." 

"Oh,  well,  I  guess  there  is  no  way  out  of  it  but  to  go. 
If  I  am  drowned  I  hope  you  will  plant  flowers  on  my 
grave." 

"Of  course,  you  will  need  wringing  out  when  we  get 
there,  but  think  of  how  well  pleased  Joe  will  be  when  he 
knows  that  he  has  a  legal  bill  of  sale  to  that  girl." 

A  very  few  minutes  sufficed  to  make  arrangements 
for  the  journey,  and  Kentuck  and  Tucker  were  off  for 
the  McCarty  ranch. 

As  they  passed  the  door  of  Papa  Barre's  hotel,  Ken- 
tuck  informed  him  that  if  any  more  fools  came  along 
looking  for  the  J.  P.,  to  shoot  them  and  he  would  hold 
an  inquest  over  them  when  he  returned. 

A  more  depressing  and  unromantic  journey  than  their 
ride  on  that  rainy  morning  cannot  be  conceived.  There 
was  a  continuous  downpour  and  the  trail  ran  a  perfect 
sluice  of  water.  The  smallest  ravines  were  bank  full, 
and  the  lowlands  along  the  streams  were  great  lakes. 
All  the  trees,  shrubbery  and  vegetation  was  dripping, 
soaking  wet  and  even  the  prairie  hawk,  sitting  on  a  dead 
mesquite  limb,  looked  forlorn  with  his  feathers  plastered 
down  with  heavy  moisture.  Nothing  but  the  tiny  frogs 
seemed  to  be  alive  to  the  situation  and  enjoying  them- 
selves. 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  215 

Several  times  Kentuck  and  Tucker  rode  saddle-skirt 
deep  through  the  water  covering  the  trail,  but  it  was  at 
the  crossing  of  North  Prong  that  they  made  their  first 
plunge  into  the  seething  flood. 

Tucker  led,  and  his  little  wiry  mustang  was  soon  blow- 
ing the  water  from  his  nostrils  as  he  swam  breast  high 
across  the  stream.  This  encouraged  Kentuck  to  urge  his 
pony  to  follow,  which  he  did  after  registering  a  protest. 
When  safely  over  they  both  dismounted  to  allow  the  an- 
imals to  rest.  Then  they  mounted  and  were  off  for  Salt 
Prong,  riding  through  a  valley  running  knee  deep  in 
water. 

The  ford  on  Salt  Prong  proved  to  be  more  difficult 
and  dangerous.  The  rush  of  the  head  waters  caused  the 
banks  to  wash,  and  the  trail  at  the  crossing  had  caved  in 
at  the  water's  edge,  leaving  an  abrupt  descent. 
.  "Take  the  lead,  Kentuck,"  said  Tucker.  "It  is  your 
time  to  navigate,  old  man." 

"Not  on  your  life,  Tucker;  you  are  the  guide  on  this 
journey,  and  I  don't  propose  to  divide  the  honors  with 
you.  So  just  mosey  along,  my  son,  and  take  your  an- 
nual bath." 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  knew  you  were  going  to  flunk,  Ken- 
tuck,  but  I  wanted  to  show  you  some  courtesy,  even  if 
you  are  a  'tenderfoot.'  " 

"Cinch  your  fly-trap,  and  hit  the  trail,  Tucker;  it  will 
be  noon  before  we  arrive  at  McCarty's  ranch,  and  think 
of  that  wedding  dinner  spoiling  while  you  are  hesitating 
to  irrigate  that  alkali  dust  on  your  back." 

"Cheese  the  racket,  Kentuck,  or  you  will  swallow  so 
much  red  mud  mixed  with  a  little  water  that  it  will  take 
a  derrick  to  lift  you  out  of  the  way  of  the  chuck  wagon 
when  it  comes  along  next  spring." 

By  persuasion  of  his  spurs,  Tucker  urged  his  pony  to 


216  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

slide  down  the  bank  and  plunge  into  the  water.  The 
pony  and  rider  went  out  of  sight  in  the  swift  running 
stream,  and  when  they  appeared  Tucker  slid  off  behind 
and  grabbed  his  pony  by  the  tail,  and  the  animal  towed 
him  across.  Before  he  had  time  to  turn,  Kentuck  urged 
his  pony  into  the  water,  and  went  through  the  same  per- 
formance given  by  Tucker,  being  his  first  experience  tail- 
ing onto  a  pony. 

In  this  way  they  successfully  forded  Deep  creek  and 
came  in  sight  of  McCarty's  ranch,  not  far  from  the  con- 
fluence of  Deep  creek  and  the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Brazos 
river. 

The  ranch  house  was  built  of  rubble  stone,  a  story  and 
a  half  high,  with  a  corral  and  a  few  sheds  near  it.  On 
this  occasion  it  stood  in  the  center  of  a  lake  about  a  mile 
wide,  with  the  water  three  feet  deep  in  the  lower  story. 
Out  of  a  half-window  in  the  gable  the  heads  of  the  oc- 
cupants could  be  seen,  watching  the  movements  of  the 
two  as  they  hesitated  on  the  edge  of  the  lake. 

"Seems  to  me  you  are  losing  time,  Tucker,  fooling 
around  this  water  hole,"  remarked  Kentuck.  "Why  don't 
you  lead  on?  I'm  anxious  to  taste  the  flavor  of  that  wild 
turkey  that  I  know  Mother  McCarty  has  been  cooking 
for  this  occasion." 

"There  you  go  again,  Kentuck;  I  would  think  your 
mind  was  occupied  with  the  marriage  ceremony  instead 
of  wasting  your  chin  music  on  me." 

"Thunder,  this  rainy  weather  has  knocked  all  the  cere- 
mony out  of  me,  and  I  can't  remember  a  word  of  it.  Go 
ahead  and  let  us  get  through  with  it  as  quick  as  possible, 
Tucker." 

"Well,  here  goes;  spur  up,  Kentuck.  Head  for  the 
liveoak  and  we  will  miss  the  ravine  on  the  left  of  the 
trail.  It  might  give  us  some  trouble  if  we  fell  into  the 
catclaws  that  grow  there." 


AMUSING   INCIDENTS  217 

Notwithstanding  the  average  depth  was  only  three 
feet,  there  were  several  depressions  it  was  necessary  to 
swim  before  they  arrived  at  the  ranch  house. 

The  whole  family,  including  Joe  Batts,  were  upstairs, 
in  what  may  properly  be  called  the  loft.  Downstairs 
the  water  was  three  feet  deep,  and  the  dogs,  pigs  and 
chickens  were  making  a  brave  effort  to  keep  from  drown- 
ing. 

Using  their  lassos  for  stake  ropes  the  ponies  were  tied 
to  the  open  work  of  the  stairway  and  allowed  to  drift 
behind  the  house  out  of  the  current.  Then  in  response 
to  the  invitation  to  come  up,  they  climbed  to  the  loft  and 
extended  their  congratulations  to  the  prospective  bride 
and  groom  and  received  a  hearty  welcome. 

The  room,  nothing  more  than  a  vacant  garret,  fur- 
nished but  little  space  to  maneuvre  in,  consequently  there 
was  no  place  for  the  candidates  for  matrimony  to  change 
clothes  for  the  ceremony,  however  much  they  may  have 
desired  to  do  so. 

In  fact,  the  ceremony  partook  more  of  the  burlesque 
than  solemnity,  for  the  ridiculous  figure  of  the  J.  P.  try- 
ing to  summon  sufficient  dignity  for  the  occasion,  while 
he  shivered  like  a  half-drowned  rat,  with  no  chance  to 
escape,  produced  the  realistic  feature  of  a  comic  opera. 

There  were  a  few  minutes'  awkward  silence,  during 
which  no  one  seemed  inclined  to  take  the  initiative,  and 
it  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  J.  P.  to  set  the  ball  rolling. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Joe  Batts,  what  do  you  think  I  permitted 
Ed  Tucker  to  tow  me  through  all  this  water  and  mud 
for  ?  Get  a  move  on  you,  quick,  and  lead  Mollie  McCarty 
over  here  by  the  window,  and  I  will  tie  you  so  hard  and 
fast  together  that  it  will  take  a  cyclone  to  burst  the 
bonds." 

Joe  turned  red  in  the  face,  and  the  bride-elect  began 


218  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

to  snicker.  Good  old  Mother  McCarty  came  to  the  rescue 
and  hustled  them  in  shape  before  the  J.  P. 

"Now,  hold  up  your  right  hands — no,  dod  blame  it, 
that's  wrong — of  course  I  don't  want  to  swear  you — say, 
Tucker,  if  you  don't  get  that  grin  off  your  face  there  will 
be  a  funeral  instead  of  a  wedding — Oh,  yes,  now  I  re- 
member, join  your  right  hands — say,  Joe,  don't  you  know 
your  right  hand  from  your  left?  Now,  Mollie,  if  you 
don't  stop  snickering  I'll  throw  up  the  job  and  quit." 

"Joe  Batts,  are  you  willing  to  take  this  girl,  Miss  Mol- 
lie McCarty,  to  be  your  lawfully  wedded  wife?  Well, 
.why  don't  you  say  yes — what  are  you  looking  so  skeered 
for? — Did  I  hear  you  say  yes?  Well,  it  was  a  mighty 
weak  yes,  but  I  guess  it  will  do. 

"Now,  Joe,  I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  to  promise  to  sup- 
port her,  and  those  other  fool  questions  the  preachers 
shove  at  a  fellow,  because  I  don't  think  you  are  equal  to 
the  burden  without  the  help  of  Uncle  Jake  McCarty,  but 
if  you  don't  try,  I'll  have  you  indicted. 

"Now,  Mollie  McCarty,  do  you  take  this  sap-headed 
galoot,  Joe  Batts,  to  be  your  lawfully  wedded  husband? 
Say,  Mollie,  if  you  don't  stop  giggling  long  enough  to 
say  yes,  I'll  go  away  and  leave  you  half  spliced. 

"Oh,  that's  a  mighty  chirpy  little  yes;  sounds  like  a 
chicken  when  it  first  pips  the  shell. 

"Now,  by  virtue  of  the  authority  vested  in  me  by  the 
law,  and  according  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  and  of  this  State,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  wit- 
nesses here  assembled,  I  pronounce  you  husband  and  wife. 
And  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  souls. 

"Say,  Tucker,  what  are  you  doubled  up  in  a  knot  for? 
You  look  like  a  case  of  cramp  colic." 

"Now,  Kentuck,"  said  Batts,  "I'm  much  obliged  to  you 
until  you  are  better  paid.  You  know  I'll  not  have  any 
money  until  the  boss  sells  some  beeves." 


AMUSING  INCIDENTS  219 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Joe;  don't  let  a  little  thing  like 
that  bother  you." 

"Come  here,  Mollie,  and  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of 
fatherly  and  motherly  advice.  Begin  now  to  train 
Josephus  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  if  he  departs 
therefrom,  make  him  cook,  wash  and  milk  the  cows." 

Notwithstanding  the  difficulties,  Mrs.  McCarty  set  out 
a  delicious  lunch  of  wild  turkey,  bread,  coffee,  cakes, 
pies,  and  other  good  things. 

And  after  an  hour's  rest,  Tucker  and  Kentuck  started 
out  on  their  return  journey  to  Albany. 

This  marriage  under  difficulties  and  similar  events  go 
to  prove  how  brave  and  cheerful  the  early  settlers  were 
under  trying  ordeals, 


CHAPTER    IX 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  WITH  A 
FRONTIER  TRAMP 

Down  the  valley  the  herd  came,  ten  thousand  or  more; 
Clattering  hoofs,  clashing  horns  and  a  bellowing  roar. 

The  traffic  in  buffalo  hides  was  greater  than  the  trail 
and  ranch  supply  business  combined,  during  the  hunting 
seasons  from  1875  to  1879. 

Thirty  tons  of  lead  and  five  tons  of  powder,  stored  in 
the  warehouse  and  magazine  attached  to  the  Conrad  & 
Rath  supply  store,  gave  some  idea  of  the  immense  trade 
done  by  this  firm  alone,  to  say  nothing  of  the  business 
done  by  the  firms  of  York  &  Draper,  William  McKamey 
and  T.  E.  Jackson,  each  carrying  hunter's  supplies. 

Around  these  stores  one  could  join  the  groups  of  sun- 
bronzed  hunters,  and  listen  to  marvelous  stories. 

They  were  the  favorite  resorts  for  Kentuck  to  spend 
his  leisure  time,  and  created  within  him  a  wild  desire  to 
visit  the  scenes  where  men  risked  their  lives  and  endured 
all  kinds  of  hardships. 

No  doubt  that  many  incidents  related  were  exaggerat- 
ed and  perhaps  some  pure  fiction,  for  your  hunters  and 
fishermen  are  great  romancers. 

But  uncertainty  is  a  most  potent  tonic  to  whet  the  ap- 
petite for  curiosity,  and  even  the  experienced  hunters 
were  often  led  to  investigate  the  rumors  that  were  set 
afloat  by  garrulous  tongues. 

Especially  interesting  was  the  story  told  of  a  mysteri- 
220 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  221 

ous  personage  known  as  "Smoky."  He  was  reported  to 
come  and  go  from  camp  to  camp  on  the  range  like  the 
spirit  of  the  "Wandering  Jew." 

If  he  had  any  antecedent  history  no  one  knew,  and  the 
freedom  of  frontier  license  forbade  investigation  by 
those  who  might  otherwise  have  questioned  him. 

If  he  had  any  haunts  where  he  hid  during  those  per- 
iods when  he  disappeared  for  weeks  and  months,  no  one 
had  ever  discovered  them. 

Three  times  in  five  years  "Smoky"  had  visited  Fort 
Griffin,  but  the  dance  halls  and  saloons  were  not  patron- 
ized by  him.  Ammunition,  coffee  and  tobacco  were  the 
extent  of  his  purchases,  and  he  did  not  tarry  long  after 
securing  them. 

Notwithstanding  the  mystery  that  surrounded  this 
strange  man,  nothing  crooked  had  ever  been  charged 
against  him. 

Kentuck  saw  "Smoky"  on  one  of  his  rare  visits,  and 
sized  him  up  as  the  one  and  only  frontier  tramp.  But 
later  on  he  came  to  know  this  queer  character  under  cir- 
cumstances that  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  know  that 
beneath  the  surface  there  was  true  manhood. 

THE  WHITE  BUFFALO 

"Hello,  John !  did  you  see  the  white  buffalo  ?" 

"White  nothing!  What  kind  of  guff  are  you  giving 
me,  Dick?" 

"Sure  thing;  one  has  been  seen  on  the  range  near  the 
Moor  Brothers'  camp,  on  the  headwaters  of  the  Clear 
Fork." 

"Oh,  I  guess  so,"  said  John  with  an  incredulous  smile. 

"Yes,  one  of  the  Moor  boys  is  willing  to  swear  to  it — 
saw  it  himself." 

"He  must  have  been  loaded  with  fire  water." 


222  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"Maybe  so,  but  Conrad  offered  $100  for  its  hide,  and 
Charley  Moor  said  that  he  would  bring  it  in  if  some 
other  outfit  did  not  beat  him  to  it." 

The  conversation  was  in  the  hearing  of  Kentuck  and 
aroused  his  curiosity.  Hunting  up  Wilhelm,  at  Conrad's 
store,  he  inquired  as  to  the  truth  of  the  rumor. 

"Charley  Moor  is  reliable,"  said  Wilhelm,  "and  if  he 
said  there  is  a  white  buffalo  on  the  range,  it  is  true." 

"If  true,  'tis  a  rare  freak  of  nature." 

"Yes,  nature  plays  some  queer  pranks  in  the  mystery 
of  reproduction.  A  white  buffalo  knocks  a  white  black- 
bird off  the  Christmas  tree." 

Very  few  believed  the  report,  and  it  was  treated  as 
a  huge  joke  by  the  old  hunters.  Nevertheless,  the  im- 
probable aroused  curiosity,  and  every  "doubting 
Thomas"  kept  an  eye  out  when  searching  the  range  with 
his  field  glass. 

The  Moor  brothers  promised  a  "high  old  time"  to  the 
boys  of  their  outfit  when  the  white  buffalo  was  killed. 

One  morning,  a  week  before  Christmas,  Henry  Palm's 
freight  outfit  came  to  the  Moor  camp  to  haul  hides  to 
Griffin,  and  Charley  Moor  was  preparing  to  accompany 
him  to  the  fort  to  purchase  supplies. 

"Billy,  if  you  will  go  out  and  kill  the  white  buffalo  I'll 
bring  back  enough  fire  water  to  give  the  boys  a  week's 
spree." 

"All  right,  Charley;  here  goes  for  a  try."  He  picked 
up  the  "50-50"  rifle  and  disappeared  up  the  canyon,  and 
it  was  near  the  noon  hour  when  he  returned  with  a  pure 
white  buffalo  hide. 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned  if  you  haven't  made  good,  Billy; 
how  did  you  turn  the  trick?" 

"Got  him  on  a  long  shot  of  a  thousand  yards." 

"Hurrah  for  Billy !"  shouted  the  boys. 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  223 

BUFFALO  HUNTING  IN  1877 

It  was  the  middle  of  October,  1877,  that  ideal  time  of 
the  year  in  Northwest  Texas  when  the  balmy  air  of  fall 
sends  a  thrill  of  invigorating  vitality  through  the  system 
of  man,  making  him  long  for  the  range,  where  the  buf- 
falo, deer,  antelope,  and  wild  turkeys  abound  in  count- 
less numbers,  and  the  possible  chance  of  meeting  a  band 
of  hostile  Indians  to  add  the  spice  of  adventure  to  the 
outing. 

The  conditions  appealed  to  Texas  and  Kentuck  like  the 
spirit  that  prompts  the  mountain  climber  to  face  the  rug- 
ged Alps.  No  man  could  live  twelve  months  in  a  frontier 
town  listening  to  the  marvelous  stories  of  the  wild  life  of 
the  buffalo  hunters,  who  slaughtered  their  thousands  in 
a  season's  hunt,  without  being  possessed  with  an  ungov- 
erning  desire  to  visit  the  scene. 

Consequently,  it  was  no  great  effort  for  Texas  and 
Kentuck  to  persuade  two  congenial  companions  to  join 
them  for  a  journey  to  the  "Staked  Plains." 

Nicknamed,  respectively,  Tennessee  and  Missouri,  in 
honor  of  their  native  States;  these  young  men  entered 
into  the  enterprise  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  novices. 

It  was  one  evening  in  the  back  room  of  Tennessee's 
drug  store  that  the  route  was  planned  and  the  details 
worked  out. 

It  was  agreed  to  follow  the  Overland  trail  via  the 
Greer  crossing  on  Hubbard's  creek  enroute  and  return 
over  the  divide  at  the  head  of  the  Clear  Fork  via  the 
"Shinnery"  and  Old  Fort  Phantom  Hill. 

One  day's  preparation  secured  Uncle  Joe  Nixon,  a 
typical  Englishman,  and  his  span  of  horses  and  a  covered 
wagon. 

The  necessary  equipment  of  guns,  ammunition,  cook- 


224  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE   SPUR 

ing  utensils  and  provisions,  with  plenty  of  blankets,  were 
loaded  into  the  wagon  the  night  before,  and  in  the  early 
hours  of  the  next  morning  Uncle  Joe  awakened  the  four 
young  men  for  an  early  start.  And  one  of  those  de- 
lightful journeys  overland  across  the  vast  prairie  coun- 
try of  Texas  was  begun.  Only  those  who  have  enjoyed 
the  experience  of  the  open-air  ride  during  the  day  and 
camping  out  at  night  in  the  uninhabited  West,  can  un- 
derstand the  exhilarating  influence  that  animates  the 
traveler  for  recreation. 

After  crossing  the  Greer  ford  on  Hubbard's  creek,  the 
trail  gradually  ascended  to  the  open  prairie  country, 
where  distance  had  no  limit  except  the  failure  of  the 
eye  to  catch  the  outline  of  space. 

Off  sixty  miles  to  the  southwest  could  be  seen 
the  blue  outline  of  Signal  Peak,  a  flat  top  mountain  used 
by  the  Indians  when  on  the  warpath  to  build  signal  fires. 
Thirty  miles  due  West  the  Double  mountains  marked  the 
course  of  the  trail,  winding  its  way  like  the  track  of  a 
great  serpent  across  the  open  country  to  the  Staked 
Plains. 

Deer  and  antelope  proved  an  easy  mark  for  Texas' 
Henry  rifle  enroute,  and  each  day's  supply  of  fresh  meat 
was  fat  and  abundant. 

Beyond  meeting  a  few  wagons  loaded  with  buffalo 
hides,  nothing  transpired  worth  relating,  until  the  outfit 
camped  on  the  Double  Mountain  Fork  of  the  Brazos, 
three  days  out  from  Albany. 

The  wagon  was  driven  to  a  bend  near  a  deep  water 
hole,  where  a  grove  of  cottonwood  and  elm  trees  sup- 
plied an  excellent  camping  ground. 

The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west  before  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  night  were  complete,  and  Uncle  Joe  had  an- 
nounced supper,  when  the  call  and  answering  call  of 
wild  turkeys  were  heard  approaching-  the  stream. 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  225 

"Be  quiet,  boys,"  said  Texas ;  "we  will  have  some  rare 
sport  tonight.  That  big  cottonwood  around  the  bend  is 
a  regular  turkey  roost." 

As  if  with  one  impulse  each  individual  in  camp  ap- 
proached a  knoll  between  the  camp  and  the  high  ground, 
where  a  view  could  be  obtained  of  the  little  valley  along 
the  stream.  A  few  scraggy  mesquites  furnished  an  ex- 
cellent screen  for  observation.  From  this  vantage  point 
the  campers  were  able  to  see  the  approach  to  the  cotton- 
wood  roost. 

The  call  of  the  gobblers  leading  the  flock  into  the  val- 
ley and  the  answers  of  the  hen  turkeys  became  more  and 
more  distinct  as  they  approached  the  edge  of  the  shrub- 
bery along  the  bank.  Then  came  the  bronze  birds,  first 
the  leaders,  and  paused  to  reconnoiter  before  venturing 
into  the  opening  near  the  tree.  Then  came  the  flock,  until 
at  least  500  flew  up  to  the  roost  in  the  stately  cottonwood. 

The  utmost  caution  was  necessary  on  the  part  of  Texas 
and  his  companions  to  prevent  flushing  the  turkeys  be- 
fore night  set  in. 

The  remainder  of  the  preparations  were  carried  on 
quietly,  and  by  the  time  the  moon  arose  the  men  were 
ready  to  approach  the  roost  and  begin  the  slaughter  of 
the  birds. 

And  it  was  indeed  rare  exciting  sport,  though  a  cruel 
waste  of  game. 

When  all  were  ready  and  each  armed  with  a  double- 
barrel  shotgun  and  plenty  of  ammunition,  they  advanced 
under  the  shadow  of  the  tree  on  the  opposite  side  from 
the  moon.  This  brought  the  turkeys  out  in  bold  relief 
against  the  moonlit  sky,  an  easy  mark  to  shoot. 

By  mutual  agreement,  each  selected  a  bird  and  all  fired 
at  once. 

Several  large,  plump  birds  were  heard  to  fall,  and 
is 


226  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

though  greatly  disturbed,  the  larger  number  of  the  flock 
remained  on  the  roost,  and  the  remainder  flew  in  a  circle 
and  settled  on  near-by  trees.  The  hunters  kept  up  the 
bombardment  until  they  became  tired  of  the  sport,  and 
in  the  morning  picked  up  a  dozen  dead  birds  without 
the  trouble  of  hunting  up  the  wounded.  During  the  next 
three  days  the  choice  parts  of  the  turkeys  were  cooked 
and  the  remainder  thrown  away. 

Every  day  the  buffalo  increased  in  numbers,  and  small 
herds  could  be  seen  making  their  way  to  the  watering 
holes,  but  the  hunting  ground  proper  was  nearer  the 
Plains.  Consequently,  Texas  and  his  companions  did 
not  loiter  by  the  way,  but  pushed  on  to  where  the  large 
outfits  were  camped  on  the  Deep  creek  of  the  Colorado 
river. 

The  fifth  day  out  from  Albany  they  drove  up  in  front 
of  Conrad  &  Rath's  branch  store,  a  low,  rambling  build- 
ing constructed  of  poles  and  buffalo  hides,  where  only 
such  supplies  were  kept  as  was  necessary  to  meet  the  de- 
mands of  the  hunters  for  their  immediate  wants. 

It  was  the  noon  hour  and  Henry  Jacobs  was  stand- 
ing in  the  door,  parleying  with  a  drunken  hunter  who 
had  imbibed  too  much  Hostetter's  bitters,  and  was  reck- 
lessly handling  a  buffalo  gun,  one  of  those  murderous 
weapons  that  shoot  a  four-inch  cartridge,  and  will  do 
execution  a  mile  distant.  When  Texas  and  his  com- 
panions drove  up,  the  muzzle  was  pointed  in  their  direc- 
tion and  the  gun  discharged.  The  bullet  striking  the 
ground  between  the  horses,  ricochetted,  making  a  loud 
buzzing  noise  that  came  near  making  the  animals  run 
away. 

This  drunken  man,  with  his  gun  and  plenty  of  cart- 
ridges, was  a  dangerous  combination,  and  kept  every  one 
guessing  in  which  direction  the  gun  would  be  discharged 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  227 

Finally  he  drifted  to  a  shanty  a  mile  down  the  trail,  much 
to  the  relief  of  every  one  around  the  supply  store. 

This  being  a  central  point  on  the  buffalo  range,  the 
four  young  men  and  Uncle  Joe  concluded  to  camp  and 
make  excursions  to  the  different  outfits  within  easy  dis- 
tance. 

John  Causey  ran  the  largest  outfit  on  the  range,  and 
was  camped  about  five  miles  down  the  stream  in  a  large 
valley  covered  with  a  thick  growth  of  mesquite  grass, 
that  furnished  an  excellent  pasture  for  the  buffalo. 

Accepting  Jacob's  invitation  to  remain  until  morning, 
the  wagon  was  drawn  up  near  the  store  and  the  horses 
hoppled  out. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  and  the  night  following  was 
given  over  to  rest  and  becoming  acquainted  with  the  few 
hunters  that  came  in  during  the  evening  after  some 
necessary  articles. 

Jacobs  and  his  companion,  Josh  Cook,  prepared  a 
stew  of  fresh  buffalo  meat  and  insisted  on  Texas'  outfit 
eating  supper  with  them. 

It  was  about  dusk  when  the  host  and  his  guests  sat 
down  to  a  rough  pine  table  in  the  rear  of  the  store,  with 
cracker  boxes  for  seats. 

The  camp  kettle,  filled  with  a  hot  stew  of  buffalo  meat, 
potatoes  and  onions,  was  lifted  from  the  fire  of  mesquite 
coals  in  the  opening  outside  and  deposited  in  the  middle 
of  the  table.  Bread  made  of  sour  dough,  soda  and  tal- 
low f  was  dumped  from  an  oven  and  a  large  coffee  pot 
filled  with  the  amber  liquid  was  brought  in.  Tin  cups,  tin 
plates  and  knives  and  forks  completed  the  preparations, 
when  Jacobs  extended  the  invitation  "to  step  up  gents 
and  get  your  chuck." 

The  rear  end  of  the  store  where  this  mess  table  was 
located  furnished  an  excellent  view  of  the  approach 


228  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

along  the  trail  from  the  west,  as  the  opening  was  un- 
usually large.  The  conversation  was  desultory,  of  a 
general  nature  and  covering  a  wide  range. 

Jacobs,  who  was  a  wit  and  possessed  a  fund  of  good 
humor,  was  telling  some  amusing  incidents  during  his 
experience  as  a  merchant  on  the  buffalo  range. 

"SMOKY" 

Among  the  strange  characters  that  he  had  come  in  con- 
tact with,  one  especially  made  a  lasting  impression. 
Jacobs  said  that  at  first  he  thought  that  he  was  a  little 
batty  in  his  upper  story,  but  later  found  out  that  he  only 
became  excited  on  the  subjects  of  Indians  and  rattle- 
snakes. "He  has  been  coming  here  regularly  every  two 
weeks  since  Conrad  &  Rath  opened  up  this  branch  store. 
He  comes  and  goes  as  silently  as  an  Indian.  No  one 
seems  to  know  anything  about  him  or  where  he  is  locat- 
ed. So  far  as  I  know,  he  has  no  friends  or  acquain- 
tances. 

"When  least  expected  he  will  drop  into  a  camp  and 
accept  an  invitation  to  'chuck,'  and  sometimes  roll  up  in 
his  blankets  and  pass  the  night.  But  he  studiously 
avoids  talking  about  his  past,  and  I  suspect  that  he  has 
had  some  great  sorrow,  that  he  carries  around  and  nurses 
all  the  time.  He  will  remain  for  an  hour  at  a  time  gaz- 
ing into  vacancy,  never  uttering  a  word.  It  is  only  when 
some  one  mentions  Indians  that  he  raises  his  head  with 
a  jerk  and  his  eyes  flash  fire. 

"I  tell  you,  boys,  that  man  has  a  history  worth  know- 
ing if  you  could  get  him  to  talk.  By  the  way,  isn't  this 
Wednesday  ?  Sure  it  is,  and  the  day  for  one  of  'Smoky's' 
visits.  That's  the  name  he  always  uses  when  introducing 
himself.  He's  a  little  late  to-day,  but  I  believe  I  see  an 
object  coming  down  the  trail  and,  I'll  bet  it  is  'Smoky.' 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  229 

"Now,  boys,  we  must  use  all  our  tact  and  best  judg- 
ment to  try  to  induce  him  to  talk,  for  I  am  certain  that 
he  can  furnish  us  a  hair-raising  story.  But  we  must 
handle  him  as  carefully  as  a  basket  of  eggs,  or  he  will 
shut  up  like  an  oyster.  Have  you  any  snake-bite  medi- 
cine ?  If  you  have,  maybe  we  can  loosen  his  tongue  with 
a  drink." 

Uncle  Joe  went  out  to  the  wagon  and  returned  with  a 
gallon  jug  and  set  it  on  the  dirt  floor  by  Jacobs. 

That  indescribable  shadow  of  the  twilight  hour  was 
combating  the  fading  light  of  the  king  of  day  when 
"Smoky"  rode  up  to  the  opening  and  dismounted. 

To  all  appearances  he  was  like  the  "wandering  Jew," 
and  had  lived  through  the  ages. 

Without  turning  his  head  or  noticing  those  seated  at 
the  table,  he  leisurely  unsaddled  his  tired  broncho  and 
hoppled  the  animal,  then  walked  slowly  up  to  the  open- 
ing, nodded  by  way  of  salutation  and  said: 

"My  name  is  'Smoky,'  gents !" 

Jacobs  introduced  each  separately,  then  extended  a 
cordial  invitation  to  "Smoky"  to  partake  of  the  evening 
meal. 

An  extra  tin  plate,  cup  and  knife  and  fork  were  laid  on 
the  table,  and  "Smoky"  sat  down  without  waiting  for  a 
second  invitation. 

Jacobs  lifted  the  jug  from  the  floor  and  placed  it  with 
an  extra  cup  in  front  of  "Smoky,"  with  the  invitation  to 
help  himself. 

He  eyed  the  jug  a  moment,  pulled  the  cork,  smelled 
the  contents  and  poured  out  a  generous  portion,  and 
sipped  the  liquid  in  the  slow  way  that  marked  all  his 
movements. 

As  if  through  mutual  understanding,  the  others  seated 
around  the  table  entered  into  a  general  conversation  with- 


230  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

out  noticing  his  actions,  allowing  him  ample  time  to  sat- 
isfy his  appetite. 

In  the  meantime,  Kentuck  sized  "Smoky"  up,  taking 
a  mental  inventory  of  the  man. 

As  Kentuck  looked  on  his  grimed,  weather-stained 
face  and  noted  the  sharp,  cadaverous  features,  and  those 
black,  piercing  eyes  masked  beneath  overhanging,  bushy 
brows,  he  became  convinced  that  "Smoky"  possessed  in- 
domitable courage.  Especially  did  his  compressed  lips 
and  square  chin  denote  that  he  could  be  relied  on  tinder 
the  most  trying  emergency.  He  was  certainly  a  wild, 
grotesque  figure,  even  on  the  frontier  of  Texas.  His 
dark  brown  hair  was  long  and  unkempt,  falling  in  many 
a  tangle  upon  his  shoulders,  and  gave  almost  a  weird 
appearance  to  his  face,  overshadowed  by  a  Mexican  som- 
brero. His  lean,  sinewy  figure  was  bent  either  from 
habit  or  age,  and,  when  walking,  he  had  a  peculiar  sham- 
bling, sliding-forward  gait,  noiseless  and  catlike, 
resembling  a  wild  animal  stalking  its  prey.  But 
it  was  his  costume  that  would  have  turned  a  burlesque 
actor  green  with  envy.  A  woolen  shirt  once  blue,  though 
not  gaudy,  was  almost  as  variegated  as  Jacob's  coat; 
overalls,  slick  and  shiny  with  the  grease  of  many  an  open- 
air  dinner,  alike  impervious  to  dirt  and  weather,  were 
thrust  into  the  legs  of  a  pair  of  cavalry  boots  that  once 
did  service  for  one  of  Uncle  Sam's  troopers,  but  now 
with  holes  in  the  uppers  and  minus  their  heels,  presented 
a  comical  sight. 

"Smoky"  was  "armed  to  the  teeth."  Around  his  waist 
was  a  belt  with  fifty  rounds  of  cartridges,  half  for  a 
Colt's  revolver  and  half  for  a  Winchester  rifle. 

Swinging  from  his  belt  was  a  Colt's  "45"  and  a  long 
hunting  knife,  and  in  a  scabbard  attached  to  his  saddle 
was  a  long-barreled  Winchester.  These  articles,  to- 


ON   THE   BUFFALO  RANGE  231 

gather  with  his  pony,  roll  of  blankets,  coffee  pot  and  fry- 
ing pan,  so  far  as  known,  constituted  all  of  his  earthly 
possessions. 

And  his  name  was  "Smoky."  "Smoky" — yes,  but 
"Smoky"  who? 

"Smoky"  nothing;  only  "Smoky,"  that's  all. 

He  might  have  dropped  from  the  horn  of  the  new 
moon  that  swung  in  crescent  shape  low  down  over  the 
western  horizon,  were  such  a  thing  possible,  so  far  as 
there  being  any  proof  to  the  contrary,  or,  more  probably, 
have  come  up  through  the  underlying  strata  from  the 
regions  below,  so  far  as  Kentuck  knew. 

He  was  forbidding  looking,  all  right,  but  must  be  ex- 
tended a  hearty  frontier  welcome,  for  it  was  one  of  the 
unwritten  laws  that  strangers  must  be  entertained. 

So  preoccupied  were  the  young  men  in  the  general 
conversation  around  the  table,  and  the  jolly  good  time 
they  were  having,  they  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
"Smoky's"  presence.  And  it  was  only  when  he  ceased 
paying  his  respects  to  the  buffalo  stew,  and  was  wiping 
his  knife  upon  his  overalls,  that  they  were  startled  with 
the  remark: 

"There  is  a  small  bunch  of  Indians  broke  loose  from 
the  reservation,  and  are  trying  to  make  trouble  for  the 
hunters  near  Blanco  canyon." 

"Indians  on  the  warpath!  What?  Where?  Indians? 
Did  you  say  Indians,  'Smoky'  ?" 

"That's  what  I  said,  gents!  They  attacked  Poe  and 
Jacob's  camp  last  Saturday,  but  a  few  shots  from  the 
buffalo  gun  made  them  turn  tail." 

"What  tribe,  and  where  are  they  now,  'Smoky'?" 

"Only  about  a  dozen  Comanche  bucks  from  the  reser- 
vation at  Fort  Sill.  A  squad  of  the  7th  Cavalry  is  on 
their  trail,  and  they  are  headed  for  the  Horseshoe  Bend 
on  the  Upper  Pecos." 


232  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

"And  you  don't  think  they  will  come  this  way, 
'Smoky'?" 

"No,  the  soldiers  will  cut  them  off  from  the  open  coun- 
try, and  they  will  be  forced  to  stay  in  the  brakes  or  go 
back  to  the  reservation." 

"Well,  pour  out  another  drink,  'Smoky,'  and  pass  the 
jug,"  said  Jacobs. 

"All  right,  gents,"  and  suiting  his  action  to  the  word, 
"Smoky"  raised  the  jug  and  poured  a  good  stiff  drink 
into  his  cup. 

The  jug  went  the  rounds  and  each  drank  a  small  por- 
tion of  the  contents.  It  soon  became  evident  from  his 
conversation  that  "Smoky"  had  been  raised  a  gentleman, 
and  was  a  man  of  culture  and  education. 

Toasts  were  drunk,  Jacobs  rendered  a  song  and  Texas 
told  an  interesting  story. 

In  the  meantime  the  exhilarating  effects  of  the  liquor 
awakened  "Smoky,"  and  he  began  to  take  a  live  interest 
in  the  jpllification,  even  going  so  far  as  to  utter  exclama- 
tions of  approval. 

Finally,  Jacobs  addressed  him  and  said,  "  'Smoky',  you 
must  have  had  some  exciting  experiences  with  the  In- 
dians, and  we  would  enjoy  very  much  to  hear  you  relate 
some  of  them." 

He  bowed  his  head  and  remained  silent  so  long  that 
those  around  the  table  feared  that  he  had  ignored  the 
request.  But  when  he  did  look  up  it  became  evident  that 
he  had  decided  to  respond. 

"Well,  gents,  you  have  been  sociable  and  treated  me 
white,  instead  of  merely  tolerating  my  presence  because 
you  wouldn't  dare  break  the  rule  of  hospitality.  Yes, 
it  may  do  me  good  to  relate  some  of  my  experiences 
instead  of  brooding  over  the  past. 

"I  don't  know  whether  either  of  you  ever  heard  of 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  233 

Jeff  Turner,  known  all  over  South  and  Southwest  Texas 
as  'the  Indian  hater'?  Well,  he  was  a  jim-dandy,  all 
right,  and  killed  and  scalped  more  Indians  than  any 
hunter  on  the  border.  The  whites  said  he  was  crazy; 
the  Indians  said  he  was  a  'black  devil'.  Turner  used  to 
join  every  raid  after  the  redskins,  and  it  was  said  that 
he  had  thirty-five  scalps  hanging  up  in  his  cabin  on  the 
Cibillo.  He  was  in  several  expeditions  commanded  by 
Big  Foot  Wallace.  Turner  was  never  quiet,  and  if  there 
were  no  expeditions  on  foot,  would  camp  on  the  Indian's 
trail  by  himself. 

"I  think  it  was  in  October,  1864,  when  the  least  pro- 
tection was  given  to  the  settlers  on  the  frontier,  by 
reason  of  the  Confederacy  calling  all  the  troops  to  the 
front  for  the  final  stand  against  the  advancing  army  of 
the  North,  that  I  joined  a  caravan  of  six  families  from 
Harris  county  on  their  way  to  San  Saba,  being  at  that 
time  as  far  west  as  any  man  dared  risk  the  safety  of  his 
wife  and  children. 

"I'm  an  old  bachelor,  never  had  any  relatives  in  the 
State  that  I  ever  heard  of.  Consequently,  have  been 
drifting  from  'post  to  pillar,'  as  the  old  saying  goes, 
without  any  definite  object  in  view,  but  always  search- 
ing for  adventure.  I  guess  I'm  a  frontier  tramp,  all 
right,  for  I'm  continually  roaming  over  the  range. 

"Well,  to  return  to  the  San  Saba  trip.  We  were  about 
ten  days  on  the  trail.  I  did  not  become  very  well  acquaint- 
ed with  the  outfit,  notwithstanding  they  treated  me  kind- 
ly, I  was  too  backward  to  make  much  progress  with  the 
women  folk.  It  is  true,  old  Bill  Gillipsie's  big  fat  gal, 
Sue,  had  a  heap  to  do  with  it.  She  took  a  malicious  de- 
light in  teasing  me  when  I  lounged  around  camp.  Jess 
Shumake's  daughter,  Fan,  was  not  quite  so  bad,  but  she 
made  a  good  second  to  Sue's  lead. 


234  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

"Joe  Larkins,  George  Muse,  Drake  Wesley  and  Mike 
Lewis  had  not  been  married  long  and  had  no  kids  large 
enough  to  make  it  uncomfortable  for  me,  or  I  expect  I 
would  have  cut  loose  from  the  gang  before  we  were  three 
days  out. 

"It  was  the  last  day  of  our  journey,  and  we  were  pass- 
ing through  the  cedar  brakes  when  we  were  joined  by  a 
tall,  awkward  stranger,  riding  a  bay  pony. 

"After  a  customary  'Hello,'  he  asked  where  the  outfit 
was  going. 

"Being  informed  that  they  intended  to  stop  at  San 
Saba  town,  he  remarked  that  it  was  a  sensible  idea,  for 
the  country  was  full  of  bad  Indians  west  of  there. 

"Riding  up  along  with  me,  he  said,  'stranger,  my  name 
is  Jeff  Turner ;  what  might  your  name  be  ?' 

"They  call  me  'Smoky,'  I  replied. 

"  'Well,  stranger,  that's  as  good  as  any  other  name,  I 
reckon.  Where  be  you  goin'  to?' 

"  'Going  west  on  the  range ;  not  particular  where  I 
stop.' 

"  'Got  any  plans  after  you  shake  this  outfit  at  San 
Saba?' 

"  'I  never  have  any  plans,  Turner ;  I  just  trust  to  luck.' 

"  'Well,  'Smoky,'  luck  is  a  mighty  uncertain  jade,  liable 
to  throw  you  at  the  most  critical  moment,  but  that's  a 
matter  of  individual  opinion.  Now,  after  a  day's  rest, 
I'll  strike  the  trail  again.' 

"  'Is  there  any  particular  place  out  West  that  you  are 
bound  for,  Turner?' 

"  'Yes,  I'm  going  to  join  Johnson's  outfit  and  help 
drive  a  bunch  of  cattle  to  the  range  near  Fort  Phantom 
hill,  on  the  Clear  Fork,  of  the  Brazos.' 

"  'Are  you  a  cowboy,  Turner  ?' 

"  'Noap,  I'm  no  cow  puncher.' 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  235 

"  'Well,  if  I'm  not  too  inquisitive,  what's  your  busi- 
ness ?' 

"  'Killing  Indians.' 

"  'Killing  Indians  ?  Say,  Turner,  you  are  not  in 
earnest,  I  hope?  Why  man,  that's  dangerous  business.' 

"  'Not  when  you  understand  it,  'Smoky'.' 

"  'But,  say,  Turner,  there  cannot  be  any  profit  in  kill- 
ing Indians?' 

"  'No,  if  you  only  count  money  profit,  but  when  you 
count  revenge — do  you  hear,  'Smoky'? — revenge — it  is 
worth  all  the  time  and  money  in  this  world.  Yes,  there 
is  a  little  woman  and  two  babies  lying  under  the  trees 
down  on  the  banks  of  the  Cibillo,  whose  blood  cries  for 
revenge.' 

"  'For  six  years  I  have  been  on  their  trail,  picking 
them  off  one  by  one  until  thirty-five  of  their  scalps  hang 
in  the  old  cabin  where  they  murdered  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren. Now  that  black-hearted  tribe  of  Comanches  have 
gone  west  where  there  are  plenty  of  buffalo,  and  I'm 
going  to  follow  them.  Yes,  I'll  follow  them  to  hell, 
'Smoky.'  " 

"Of  course,  gents.  I  had  nothing  more  to  say,  and  we 
rode  along  in  silence  for  a  while. 

"When  we  came  in  sight  of  the  little  village  of  San 
Saba,  Turner  seemed  to  awaken  from  the  stupor  of  mem- 
ory and  take  an  interest  in  our  surroundings. 

"  'Well,  'Smoky,'  we  are  now  in  sight  of  the  town,  the 
ranch  is  off  two  miles  east,  and  there  is  no  reason  why 
I  should  go  to  town  to-day,  so  adios,  'Smoky';  if  you 
want  to  go  West,  come  out  and  join  the  outfit.'  He 
turned  his  horse's  head  to  the  right  and  was  soon  lost  to 
sight. 

"Our  wagon  train  was  not  long  on  the  way  to  the 
town,  and  by  noon  were  comfortably  settled  in  a  wagon 
yard. 


236  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"After  this  I  did  not  see  much  of  my  companions  of 
the  journey  and  the  next  day  concluded  to  ride  out  to 
the  ranch  and  see  Turner. 

"Johnson's  ranch  was  a  well  appointed  cattle  ranch 
headquarters,  with  all  the  necessary  pens,  corrals,  sheds, 
bunk  houses  and  mess  rooms.  The  main  ranch  house, 
where  Johnson's  family  resided,  was  about  500  yards 
from  the  cowboys'  bunk  house.  This  residence  was  a 
low  rambling  adobe,  one  story  high  with  a  long  porch 
the  full  length  of  the  house.  Mode  Johnson's  family  con- 
sisted of  his  wife,  two  daughters  and  his  brother  Dick. 
Now,  Dick  was  to  be  the  trail  boss  on  the  drive  to  the 
range  west  of  Fort  Phantom  hill.  So  when  I  arrived 
at  the  bunk  house  and  found  Turner,  he  went  with  me 
to  the  horse  corral,  where  Dick  Johnson  was  inspecting 
a  bunch  of  saddle  ponies.  After  the  customary  'howdy,' 
I  tackled  him  for  a  job.  Having  had  but  little  experience 
with  range  cattle,  he  employed  me  to  help  herd  the  ponies 
and  assist  the  cook. 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into  details  of  the  next  week, 
devoted  to  the  gathering  of  1,000  head  of  cattle  and  the 
start  Sunday  morning  for  the  west;  you  are  familiar 
with  such  scenes. 

"It  was  a  two  weeks'  long,  dusty  drive  up  the  trail, 
loose  herding  at  night  and  long  or  short  drives  during 
the  day,  according  to  the  distance  between  water  holes. 
There  being  plenty  of  deer,  antelope  and  turkeys  along 
the  route,  we  had  a  regular  feast  every  meal.  Nothing 
startling  happened  until  we  pulled  out  from  Fort  Grif- 
fin, where  the  boss  paid  several  of  the  boys  out  of  limbo 
for  tanking  up  and  using  their  firearms  too  freely. 

"From  Griffin  we  followed  almost  a  northwest  course 
for  the  gap  at  Leadbetter's  Salt  Works.  From  rumors  at 
Griffin  and  a  few  signs  that  Turner  picked  up  at  the  first 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  237 

water  hole  the  day  following,  we  became  convinced  that 
a  roving  band  of  Indians  were  on  the  war  path. 

Consequently,  we  moved  with  great  caution,  and  put 
out  extra  guards  at  night  At  the  Salt  Works  we  were 
told  that  a  band  of  Comanches  with  a  bunch  of  stolen 
horses  passed  through  the  night  before,  and  exchanged  a 
few  shots  with  Leadbetter's  outfit.  This  caused  Dick 
Johnson  to  hold  a  consultation  with  all  his  men,  and  after 
wasting  considerable  chin  music,  it  was  decided  to  send 
Turner  and  me  ahead  as  scouts,  to  look  out  for  the  red- 
skins, and  give  the  alarm  in  time  to  prepare  for  an  attack. 

"Nothing  could  have  pleased  Turner  better,  though  I'll 
admit  that  I  did  not  feel  so  comfortable  about  it.  In 
fact,  if  I  had  been  consulted  the  probabilities  are  that  I 
would  have  preferred  to  remain  with  the  herd.  But  I 
well  knew  that  it  would  not  do  to  show  the  white 
feather. 

"We  dropped  the  herd  coming  up  the  Salt  Creek  valley 
toward  the  gap  in  the  mountain  leading  to  the  open 
prairie. 

"Turner  always  carried  a  field  glass,  and  when  we 
emerged  from  the  pass  where  the  trail  crossed  the 
prairie,  he  leveled  it  on  the  open  landscape. 

"It  was  a  twenty-six  miles'  view  to  where  the  white 
chimneys  of  the  Fort  Phantom  Hill  like  bright  specks 
reflected  the  sunlight  on  the  banks  of  the  Clear  Fork  of 
the  Brazos  river.  The  fringe  of  trees,  like  a  dark  green 
thread  in  the  distance,  marked  the  course  of  the  stream 
from  the  northwest  to  the  southeast,  as  it  semicircled 
toward  Fort  Griffin.  Here  and  there,  between  our  point 
of  view  and  where  the  trail  crossed  the  Clear  Fork  at 
Phantom  Hill,  were  several  smaller  streams,  also  marked 
by  threads  of  green.  Turner  occupied  at  least  ten  min- 
utes looking  through  his  glass,  apparently  covering  every 


238  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE   SPUR 

mile  of  territory  before  he  took  it  from  his  eyes.  Then 
he  turned  and  looked  at  me  for  a  minute  as  if  in  deep 
thought,  then  said:  'Smoky,'  there  don't  seem  to  be 
much  in  sight,  except  two  objects;  one  bothers  me  and 
the  other  troubles  me.  On  the  trail  between  the  crossing 
of  the  Clear  Fork  and  the  first  stream  this  side  is  a  cov- 
ered wagon  and  some  loose  ponies  driven  behind.  Evi- 
dently some  fool  and  his  family  going  West.  Off  to  the 
right,  down  the  Clear  Fork,  about  twelve  miles,  if  I'm 
not  mistaken,  is  that  murderous  band  of  Comanches.  The 
natural  lay  of  the  ground  shields  the  wagon  from  the 
Indians,  and  neither  can  see  the  other,  but  by  camping 
time  they  will  be  so  close  together  that  the  Indians  will 
discover  the  wagon,  then  that  fool  and  his  family  might 
as  well  say,  good-by,  vain  world.  Now,  it  looks  blamed 
sneaking  measly  for  you  and  me,  'Smoky,'  to  let  that 
fool  cuss  run  into  the  trap  without  warning  him,  especial- 
ly if  there  are  any  women  and  children  along.  Now,  John- 
son's outfit  is  too  far  behind  to  be  in  any  danger,  so  I'm 
going  to  save  the  dodblamed  fool,  if  I  can  manage  to  ride 
fast  enough  and  keep  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians.  Of 
course,  'Smoky,'  you  don't  have  to  go  with  me ;  you  can 
return  to  the  outfit  and  tell  them  where  I  have  gone. 
There  may  be  a  scrimmage  before  I  come  back,  and  there 
is  no  use  of  you  being  mixed  up  in  it.' 

"  'Now,  Turner,'  I  said,  'if  you  think  I'm  going  to  let 
you  go  on  without  me  you  are  badly  mistaken.  It  is 
true  I'm  not  very  anxious  to  mix  up  with  a  lot  of  red- 
skins, but  I  will  not  desert  a  friend  in  time  of  danger; 
it's  against  my  principles.' 

"  'I  always  thought  you  had  the  right  stuff  in  you, 
'Smoky,'  that's  the  reason  that  I  invited  you  to  join  the 
outfit  at  San  Saba.  Well,  come  along,' Smoky,'  we  haven't 
time  to  parley  if  we  intend  to  save  that  fool  and  his 
family.' 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  239 

"  'What  makes  you  call  him  a  fool,  Turner  ?' 

"  'Because  nobody  but  a  fool  'tenderfoot'  would  venture 
out  into  an  Indian  country  with  a  covered  wagon.' 

"Spurring  up  our  ponies,  we  were  soon  riding  at  a 
lively  gait  over  the  trail. 

"About  ten  miles  from  the  Salt  Works  the  trail 
crossed  Chimney  creek,  a  stream  named  after  a  lone 
chimney  on  the  bank  where  a  ranch  house  had  been 
burned  by  the  Indians.  Five  miles  farther  we  crossed 
Spring  creek,  named  after  the  clear  spring  water  that 
bubbled  up  from  the  bed  of  the  stream. 

"We  had  now  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Indians, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  use  the  greatest  caution  to  pre- 
vent being  seen.  The  only  chance  of  warning  the  man 
with  the  covered  wagon,  was  to  locate  them,  and  then 
circle  around  in  front  of  the  Indians. 

"We  were  giving  our  bronchos  water  under  the  bluff 
at  a  deep  water  hole,  and  Turner  had  just  handed  me  a 
piece  of  jerked  buffalo,  when  we  heard  the  sound  of  an- 
imals' feet  just  over  the  divide  on  the  hardpan ;  thought 
it  might  be  cattle  coming  for  water,  but  Turner  dis- 
mounted and  crawled  up  through  the  broom-weeds  to 
the  top  of  the  bluff  to  see. 

"In  two  minutes  he  came  rolling  down  and  hastily 
mounted  and  said,  '  "Smoky,"  if  you  ever  did  any  fast 
riding  in  your  life,  now  is  the  time.  Those  damned  Co- 
manches  are  not  a  half  mile  away,  and  we  have  to  get 
out  of  sight  around  that  bend  if  we  want  to  keep  our 
scalps.' 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  our  riding  as  fast  as  those 
ponies  could  go  under  the  persuasion  of  both  quirt  and 
spur.  Instead  of  following  the  trail,  we  ran  across  be- 
tween the  creek  and  the  big  bend,  and  quirted  our  po- 
nies over  the  mesa  and  over  the  top  of  the  divide  on  this 


240  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

side  of  Elm  creek,  and  dropped  out  of  sight  down  the 
slope  just  in  time  to  escape  being  seen  by  their  advance 
scouts  sent  ahead  to  select  a  camping  place.  Being  safe 
for  the  time  being,  we  dismounted  to  give  our  ponies 
wind,  and  Turner  crawled  back  to  where  he  could  see 
the  Indians.  He  returned  in  a  few  minutes  and  said: 
'  "Smoky,"  I  saw  the  whole  outfit  file  down  into  the  val- 
ley and  they  have  about  forty  stolen  ponies,  and  a  sick  or 
wounded  red  on  a  drag-litter.  I  expect  that  they  had  a 
scrimmage  somewhere  up  the  country.  Now  straddle 
your  pony  and  we  will  make  for  the  ford  on  the  Clear 
Fork  before  the  red  devils  come  in  sight/  We  quirted 
ahead  and  crossed  just  above  the  mouth  of  Elm,  and 
from  the  liveoak  thicket  at  the  top  of  the  hill  on  this 
side  saw  them  go  into  camp. 

"We  then  hurried  on  to  find  the  covered  wagon  that 
Turner  saw  from  the  high  ground  through  his  field  glass. 
As  we  emerged  from  the  live  oaks  and  followed  the  trail 
along  the  river,  we  came  to  the  stranger's  camp  about 
two  miles  from  the  fort.  It  was  as  wild  and  untamed  a 
place  as  rugged  nature  could  have  been  expected  to  fur- 
nish for  a  resting-place  over  night.  Within  twenty  feet 
of  the  camp  the  bank  of  the  river  dropped  to  the  clear 
blue  water,  mirroring  the  ever-changing  colors  of  the 
twilight  sky.  The  low  bank  on  the  other  side  was  hid- 
den beneath  a  thicket  of  wild  plum  bushes,  so  dense  that 
deer  and  wild  turkeys  could  approach  and  drink  without 
being  seen  from  the  trail  skirting  the  shin  oaks  above. 
This  thicket  extended  for  one-half  mile  east  of  the  foot 
of  a  sloping  hill,  surmounted  by  the  ghostlike  chimneys 
of  the  old  abandoned  fort  where  once  Generals  Lee, 
Johnson  and  Grant  were  stationed  when  young  lieutenants 
before  the  war.  Off  to  the  southeast  the  open  prairie 
extended  far  away,  gradually  melting  into  the  invisible 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  241 

blue,  where,  on  clear  days,  there  appeared  a  beautiful 
mirage,  representing  a  forest-crowned  hill,  with  a  lake 
as  its  base  line,  giving  to  the  fort  its  phantom  name. 

"Up  and  down,  the  river's  course  was  marked  by  tall 
cottonwood  and  low-spreading  elms,  with  here  and  there 
a  glimpse  of  steep  bluffs. 

"In  time  of  the  spring  rains  these  bluffs  dam  up  the 
drift-laden  water,  and  it  overflows  the  low  banks  and 
piles  the  debris  among  the  mesquite  trees,  there  to  re- 
main high  and  dry,  a  warning  to  man  not  to  build  his 
habitation  in  the  path  of  the  flood  tide. 

"Running  north  by  west,  in  an  irregular  parallel  with 
the  river's  course,  was  a  dense  growth  of  shin  oak  vary- 
ing from  one  to  three  miles  in  width.  This  Liliputian 
forest  abounded  with  all  kinds  of  wild  animals  and  tur- 
keys and  also  furnished  excellent  concealment  for  rene- 
gade white  men  and  bands  of  hostile  Indians. 

"The  place  where  we  found  the  covered  wagon,  the 
shin  oak  came  within  one-fourth  mile  of  the  river,  a  de- 
lightful camping  ground,  but  a  dangerous  place  to  be  at- 
tacked by  the  Indians. 

"As  we  rode  up  to  the  camp,  Turner  remarked :  'Of  all 
the  blamed  idiots  that  I  ever  heard  of  since  I  built  my 
cabin  on  the  banks  of  Cibillo,  that  fool  certainly  takes 
the  bear  grease.' 

"In  the  gathering  twilight  we  could  see  a  man  hoppling 
out  a  pair  of  horses  and  a  woman  pottering  around  the 
chuck  box,  while  three  little  children  were  playing  on  the 
grass. 

"As  we  pulled  up  our  horses  near  the  wagon,  the 
woman  had  started  a  blaze  under  some  dry  mesquite 
limbs,  preparatory  to  cooking  supper. 

"  'Hello !'  said  Turner,  by  way  of  attracting  their  at- 
tention and  announcing  our  arrival. 

16 


242  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

"The  woman  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and  came 
forward  to  greet  us. 

"  'Hello,  strangers,'  she  replied ;  'where  ye  be  from  ?' 

"  'From  over  the  divide,  down  the  overland  trail/  said 
Turner.  'What's  your  name,  and  where  are  you  from?' 

"  'Our  name  is  Burton,  and  we  live  down  near  Mc- 
Kinney,'  replied  the  woman. 

"  'Well,  what  in  the  world  are  you  doing  out  here?' 

"  'Oh,  paw  was  a  little  crowded  for  room  down  there 
and  came  out  to  locate  a  ranch.' 

"By  this  time  the  man  had  returned  to  the  wagon  with 
an  armful  of  wood,  and  throwing  it  down  near  the  fire 
came  up  and  invited  us  to  dismount  and  camp  with  them. 

"  'Well,  generally  speaking,  we  would  be  glad  to  ac- 
cept your  invitation,  but  this  evening  we  are  in  a  little 
bit  of  a  hurry  to  move  on/  said  Turner,  'and,  if  you  have 
any  regard  for  the  safety  of  your  family  you  will  hustle 
those  traps  back  into  the  wagon  and  pull  out  of  here.' 

"  'Why,  what  do  you  mean,  stranger  ?'  asked  Burton. 

"  'I  mean/  replied  Turner,  'that  there  is  about  100  Co- 
manche  Indians  on  the  war  path,  and  they  are  camped  on 
Elm  creek,  not  more  than  two  miles  from  here.' 

"  'Goodness,  gracious,  paw/  shouted  Mrs.  Burton,  'get 
the  horses  quick — here,  Mary  Ann,  throw  those  things 
into  the  wagon  while  I  help  the  children  to  climb  in — 
hurry  up,  Jake,  with  the  horses.' 

"Turner  and  I  dismounted  and  helped  Burton  harness 
his  horses  and  hitch  them  to  the  wagon. 

"  'Say,  Burton,  you  blooming  idiot,  what  did  you  bring 
your  family  out  into  this  Indian  country  for?' 

"  'Why,  that  real  estate  agent  that  sold  me  a  certificate 
told  me  the  Indians  were  all  on  the  reservation,  and  that 
it  was  perfectly  safe  to  bring  my  family.  And  ma  she 
wanted  to  come  so  bad  I  just  concluded  to  bring  them 


ON   THE  BUFFALO   RANGE  243 

along.  And  now,  gents,  I'll  admit  that  this  Indian  busi- 
ness is  a  little  out  of  my  line,  and  I'm  willing  to  do  just 
what  you  suggest.' 

"  'Well,'  said  Turner,  'I  have  been  over  this  trail  once 
before,  and  I  think  I  know  where  an  old  trail  enters  the 
shinnery  back  of  that  knoll  over  there.  All  of  you  hustle 
into  that  wagon  in  a  hurry  and  follow  me.  'Smoky,' 
throw  sand  over  that  fire,  it  can  be  seen  a  long  way,  and 
I  expect  the  red  devils  have  already  located  it.  Every- 
body ready?  All  right,  come  on.' 

"By  this  time  darkness  set  in  and  those  in  the  wagon 
could  only  see  Turner  dimly  as  he  led  the  way. 

"  'Swing  into  the  big  trail  here,'  he  said,  'and  we  will 
follow  it  to  the  slope  of  the  knoll,  where  the  hard-pan 
gravel  will  leave  no  signs,  over  to  the  edge  of  the  shin- 
nery; then  we  will  double  back  to  the  rocky  knoll  and 
strike  the  old  trail,  and  if  the  reds  are  not  particularly 
hunting  for  signs,  we  may  escape  without  having  to 
stand  them  off  with  our  guns.' 

"  'Why  don't  you  keep  to  the  Big  Trail,  Turner,  until 
we  strike  the  open  country?'  asked  Burton. 

:<  'Say,  you  are  a  'tenderfoot'  all  right.  Don't  you 
know  that  the  Comanches  are  prairie  Indians  and  do  all 
their  devilment  and  fighting  in  the  open  ?  They  don't  like 
to  tackle  anything  under  cover.  No  sir,  we  are  going  into 
the  brush.  There  used  to  be  a  water  hole  on  the  old 
trail,  about  half  way  through  the  shinnery,  and  we  will 
go  there  before  making  camp,  provided  the  Indians  don't 
ambush  us/ 

"By  this  time  we  arrived  at  the  point  where  we  intend- 
ed to  enter  the  old  trail.  There  was  a  flash  in  the  dark- 
ness, followed  by  the  report  of  a  rifle,  and  a  bullet 
whistled  uncomfortably  near  my  head. 

"All  was  in  confusion  in  a  moment,  and  but  for  the 


244  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE   SPUR 

presence  of  mind  and  quick-spoken  words  of  Turner, 
the  panic  might  have  proved  disastrous,  for  all  were 
taken  by  surprise. 

"Burton,  whip  that  team  into  a  run  and  follow  the  old 
trail.  'Smoky/  bring  your  shooting-irons  here,  and  help 
me  hold  off  these  red  devils  until  Burton  escapes — we 
are  up  against  a  tough  proposition,  I'm  afraid/ 

"Evidently  the  shot  was  fired  more  as  a  signal  than 
with  any  hope  of  hitting  one  of  us,  for  with  the  exception 
of  the  noise  made  by  the  retreating  wagon  along  the  trail, 
the  silence  from  the  direction  of  where  the  shot  was  fired 
was  almost  painful. 

"  'I  don't  like  this  silence/  whispered  Turner.  'The 
red  devils  are  too  quiet  to  suit  my  idea  of  safety.  Keep 
a  grip  on  your  gun,  'Smoky/  while  I  lie  down  and  try  to 
see  and  hear  what  they  are  up  to/  Suiting  his  action 
to  his  words,  Turner  dropped  quietly  to  the  ground,  only 
to  spring  up  the  next  moment  and  excitedly  whisper, 
'Smoky/  the  jig  is  up;  we  are  surrounded.  They  are 
closing  in  on  all  sides — crawling  on  the  ground  like  snakes 
— only  one  chance — make  a  rush  for  the  old  trail — no 
time  to  lose — every  one  of  the  bloodthirsty  cusses  will 
shoot  to  kill — don't  stop  to  return  their  fire — if  you  ever 
did  any  first-class  running  against  big  odds,  do  it  now — 
if  a  red  pops  his  head  up  in  your  path,  punch  your  gun 
against  him  and  pull  the  trigger — we  will  fight  our  way 
out — are  you  ready?' 

"  'Yes/  I  replied. 

"  'Well,  here  goes/  and  Turner  made  a  dash  for  the 
trail,  closely  followed  by  me. 

"Gents,  that  was  the  signal  for  the  darnedest  hair-rais- 
ing, blood-curdling  yells  you  can  imagine,  followed  by  a 
storm  of  arrows  mixed  with  reports  of  guns,  and  they 
began  to  close  in,  determined  to  kill  or  capture  us.  I 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  245 

was  close  to  Turner's  heels  as  he  ran, -rifle  in  one  hand 
and  knife  in  the  other.  Two  powerful  Indian  braves 
arose  in  our  path,  ready  to  brain  us  with  their  toma- 
hawks. Turner  leaned  forward  until  his  head  was  below 
the  line  of  his  hips  and  shouted  to  me  to  shoot.  I  fired 
and  one  Indian  fell,  and  at  the  same  time  Turner  dodged 
the  keen  edge  of  the  other's  tomahawk,  and,  raising  his 
knife  on  a  line  with  the  Indian's  breast,  sprang  from 
the  ground  like  a  mountain  lion  and  fell  upon  his  foe 
with  an  impetus  that  forced  the  Indian  to  his  knees,  and 
before  he  could  recover  Turner  drove  the  knife  into  a 
vital  spot  and  sprang  to  one  side  just  in  time  to  save  us 
from  falling  into  a  death  trap.  Four  more  Indians  were 
in  the  trail  blocking  the  way,  and  all  around  us  was  a 
din  of  shrieks  and  yells,  enough  to  still  the  stoutest  heart. 
Before  either  of  us  could  grasp  the  situation,  Turner 
shouted  to  follow  him,  and  jumped  into  the  thicket  of 
wild  plum  bushes  on  the  side  of  a  ravine.  I  followed  and 
we  went  sliding,  tumbling,  falling  down  the  steep  bank 
before  the  Indians  discovered  our  escape.  Down,  down, 
there  seemed  to  be  no  bottom,  and  all  the  time  the  loose 
stones  and  earth  falling  upon  us  like  hail,  until  we  land- 
ed bruised  and  bleeding  at  the  bottom.  As  we  lay  like 
bundles  of  rags,  -stunned  and  half  conscious,  the  breath 
knocked  out  of  us,  we  could  see  far  above  us  a  ribbon  of 
blue  sky  that  marked  the  top  of  the  ravine,  and  could 
hear  the  distant  yells  of  the  Comanches,  like  wild  animals 
deprived  of  their  prey.  What  a  lightning  change  in  the 
situation  of  a  few  moments  before ! 

"  'Say,  Turner,  I  didn't  know  that  the  bottom  had  fal- 
len out  when  I  followed  you  into  that  plum  thicket,  but 
I'm  sure  glad  to  give  the  reds  the  slip,  even  if  we  did 
travel  over  the  roughest  road  in  America,'  I  remarked. 

"  'Yes,,  it  was  slip,  slide,  roll,  tumble  and  a  hard  jolt 


246  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

at  the  bottom,  and  I  don't  mind  acknowledging  the  rough- 
est experience  I  ever  had  with  the  Indians  since  they 
murdered  my  wife  and  little  ones.' 

"  'Where  are  we  at  this  moment,  how  did  we  come 
here,  and  what  has  happened  in  the  regions  above?'  I  re- 
marked, feeling  a  bump  on  my  forehead. 

"  'Well,  'Smoky,'  Turner  replied,  'we  took  a  leap  in  the 
dark,  and  when  we  landed  in  space  without  wings  we  fell 
down  instead  of  going  up,  and  right  now  are  up  against  a 
tough  proposition.  We  have  escaped  the  red  devils  to- 
night, but,  like  rats  in  a  trap,  may  meet  the  cat  in  the 
morning.  In  the  meantime,  we  are  cut  off  from  our 
horses  with  nothing  to  eat,  and  probably  nothing  to 
drink.  I  wonder  what  become  of  that  fool  Burton?  I 
don't  think  the  Indians  followed  him  up,  and  if  he's  got 
sense  enough  to  remain  quiet  he  may  escape.  Well, 
"Smoky,"  if  you  have  not  broken  your  bones  in  the  fall 
we  will  get  up  and  try  and  do  something.' 

"  Tm  all  right,  Turner.' 

"  'So  am  I,  too.    Now  where  are  our  guns  ?' 

"  'I  held  onto  mine  in  the  tumble,  but  lost  my  knife 
and  half  of  the  cartridges.  Where  is  your  gun  ?' 

"  'Well,  while  you  are  hunting  your  gun,  Turner,  I'll 
creep  down  toward  the  mouth  of  the  ravine  and  see  if 
there  are  any  Indians  there.'  Making  as  little  noise  as 
possible  I  made  my  way  to  where  I  could  see  the  mouth 
of  the  ravine.  I  did  not  have  long  to  wait  when  I  saw 
the  moving  figures  guarding  the  ravine.  During  the  time 
I  was  absent,  Turner  found  his  gun,  badly  battered  but 
still  good  for  service. 

"  'Just  as  I  supposed,'  remarked  Turner,  when  I  in- 
formed him  of  the  Indians  at  the  mouth  of  the  ravine. 
'We  must  go  up  the  other  way  if  we  hope  to  get  out  of 
this  devil's  trap.' 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  247 

"Nothing  could  be  seen  ahead  in  the  darkness,  between 
the  walls  of  our  natural  prison,  and  we  were  compelled 
to  feel  our  way  along  the  bed  of  the  ravine,  often  crawl- 
ing over  rough,  jagged  rocks  that  barred  our  way,  and 
at  other  points  became  entangled  with  catclaw  bushes 
growing  along  the  sides.  All  sounds  from  above  had 
ceased,  and  save  the  lonely  hoo-hoo  of  the  prairie  dog, 
owl  and  the  sharp  yelping  of  a  pack  of  coyotes,  the  only 
sound  was  our  exertions  in  making  our  way  up  the  ra- 
vine. We  had  gone  perhaps  200  yards  when  Turner, 
who  was  in  advance,  exclaimed,  'Well,  I'll  be  blowed  if 
this  isn't  a  jim-dandy  fix!' 

"  'What  have  you  struck  now,  Turner  ?' 

"  'Butted  up  against  a  solid  wall,  and  unless  there  is 
an  opening  above  my  head,  we  are  done  for,  sure/ 

"In  a  moment  I  was  at  his  side  and  we  began  a  close 
examination.  Slowly  we  passed  our  hands  over  the  solid 
wall,  but  failed  to  find  either  an  opening  or  means  to 
climb. 

"  'There  may  be  an  opening  above  our  heads/  said 
Turner.  'We  are  in  a  pocket  of  some  kind,  and  if  I 
dared  light  a  match  we  might  discover  some  way  out, 
but  the  red  devils  would  be  sure  to  see  us  and  shoot  or 
tumble  rocks  down  upon  us.  Now,  'Smoky/  brace  your- 
self against  the  rock  and  I'll  climb  on  your  shoulders,  and 
maybe  I  can  find  something.' 

"I  furnished  the  necessary  shoulders  and  he  climbed 
up  in  a  jiffy,  and  began  examining  the  rock  above. 

"  'Holy  smoke,  here  is  a  round  hole  as  big  as  a  barrel, 
over  to  the  left,  just  out  of  reach  of  a  man  down  there. 
Keep  still,  'Smoky/  and  I'll  crawl  into  it,  then  pull  you 
up.  Now,  pass  up  the  guns  first,  so  I  can  push  them  back 
out  of  the  way,  then  hold  up  your  hands  and  I'll  yank 
you  up/ 


248  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"The  guns  were  handed  up  as  Turner  requested,  and 
I  extended  my  hands  and  he  grasped  my  wrists.  'Now 
climb  with  your  feet  while  I  yank/  he  advised. 

"After  a  severe  strain  on  his  muscles,  with  all  the  aid 
I  could  give  him,  I  was  finally  landed  in  the  mouth  of 
the  hole.  We  were  now  in  what  seemed  to  be  a  rough 
passage  through  the  solid  rock,  just  large  enough  to 
admit  our  bodies  crawling  on  our  hands  and  knees,  single 
file. 

Silently  we  began  this  strange  journey,  each  pushing 
his  gun  ahead.  The  darkness  was  intense,  and  seemed  to 
press  heavily  upon  us  like  an  unseen  hand.  At  a  short 
distance,  perhaps  eight  or  ten  feet  from  the  entrance,  the 
passage  opened  into  a  low  cavern,  very  little  higher  than 
the  passage,  but  spacious  in  width. 

"  'Range  up  alongside  of  me,  "Smoky."  I  think  we 
have  entered  an  underground  prairie,  and  we  want  to 
keep  in  touch  with  each  other.  We  may  run  onto  some- 
thing in  this  queer  place  and  need  our  combined 
strength.' 

"Ten  minutes  more,  crawling  through  a  sea  of  dark- 
ness over  a  damp,  slimy  floor,  keyed  up  to  the  highest 
sense  of  uncertainty,  and  alert  to  the  slightest  movement 
or  sound ;  and  yet,  not  prepared  to  hear  that  awful,  dead- 
ly warning  of  death. 

"'Rattlers!  By  the  great  Saint  Patrick,  rattlers, 
'Smoky,'  rattlers!' 

"  'Snakes !  Rattlesnakes !'  I  replied.  'That's  the  dead- 
liest foe  a  man  ever  tackled  in  the  dark.' 

"  'Yes,  this  must  be  the  devil's  reception  room,  and  if 
we  don't  make  back  tracks  we  may  become  the  devil's 
guests  for  all  eternity,'  said  Turner. 

"  'Strike  a  light,  Turner,  so  that  we  can  locate  the  dia- 
mond-backs. I  don't  care  to  run  into  a  nest  of  them.' 


ON   THE   BUFFALO  RANGE  249 

"  'All  right ;  though  that  is  a  dangerous  experiment,  it 
is  better  than  fooling  around  in  the  dark.' 

"He  lighted  a  Mexican  wax-match,  that  burns  like  a 
taper.  As  soon  as  the  light  penetrated  the  inky  dark- 
ness a  terrible  sight  met  our  eyes.  Not  more  than  ten 
feet  away  was  a  wriggling  mass  of  writhing,  twisting, 
hissing  rattlesnakes.  The  contortions  of  their  repulsive 
bodies,  the  lightning  movements  of  their  forked  tongues, 
and  that  venomous  green  light  of  their  eyes,  so  deadly 
fascinating,  was  enough  to  congeal  the  blood  and  strike 
fear  to  the  stoutest  heart.  As  we  looked,  the  mass  began 
to  untangle  itself,  and  large  rattlers  wriggled  along  as  if 
intent  on  cutting  off  all  chances  of  escape.  For  once 
Turner  lost  his  presence  of  mind,  and  was  struck  dumb 
by  the  awful  conditions  that  surrounded  him.  He  struck 
another  match,  but  it  only  made  the  situation  more  ap- 
palling, for  there  were  numerous  passages  opening  into 
the  cavern,  and  they  all  looked  alike.  In  the  confusion 
following  the  deadly  warning  of  the  snakes,  we  had  com- 
pletely lost  our  bearings,  and  were  as  helpless  as  chil- 
dren. It  paralyzed  our  tongues  and  numbed  all  of  our 
faculties,  and  the  blood  flowed  back  to  our  hearts  with  an 
icy  chill  that  stopped  circulation.  Horror  of  horrors! 
Could  Dante's  Inferno  hold  terrors  equal  to  this  deadly 
situation?  The  cold,  bare  cave,  too  low  to  admit  of  any 
position  except  upon  hands  and  knees  or  sitting  upon  the 
rock  floor.  Egyptian  darkness  followed  the  last  flicker- 
ing spark  of  the  match,  and  to  be  helpless  victims  at  the 
mercy  of  venomous  reptiles  that  at  any  moment  might 
strike  their  poisonous  fangs  into  our  quivering  flesh  was 
almost  too  much  for  weak  human  nature  without  unhing- 
ing the  mind.  Unconsciously  we  moved  each  toward  the 
other  until  we  leaned  together  as  if  for  mutual  support. 
How  long  we  remained  in  this  position  I  have  no  means 


250  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

of  telling.  It  might  have  been  hours,  while  the  cold  per- 
spiration formed  beads  on  our  foreheads.  But  at  last 
the  chilly  atmosphere  and  our  cramped  position  began  to 
tell,  and,  though  the  slightest  movement  would  expose  us 
to  the  extreme  danger  of  being  bitten  by  the  snakes,  our 
benumbed  limbs  must  be  straightened  to  ease  the  pain 
that  gripped  and  cramped  them.  Neither  spoke,  for 
speech  was  frozen  at  its  fountain  head,  and  silence  like 
the  hush  of  death  filled  the  cavern.  The  snakes  were 
either  coiled  or  quietly  crawling  over  the  slimy  floor. 

"Turner  made  a  slight  movement,  followed  immedi- 
ately by  his  hoarse,  unnatural  voice  as  he  excitedly 
exclaimed,  'Smoky/  I  have  received  my  death  warrant; 
no  earthly  power  can  save  me ;  don't  interrupt  me ; 
your  life  hangs  by  a  thread  so  slender  that  the  least 
movement  will  break  it  and  send  you  over  the  Big 
Divide  into  the  other  world.  Dig  a  hole  in  the  morning 
and  plant  me  where  the  buzzards  and  coyotes  cannot 
pick  my  bones.  I  have  no  message  to  send  to  any  human 
being.  Those  who  cared  the  least  bit  about  me  are  dead, 
and  the  living  who  once  knew  me  have  forgotten  my  ex- 
istence. For  ten  years  I  have  lived  in  the  wilds  of  Texas, 
a  law  unto  myself.  Back  in  the  mountains  of  old  Ken- 
tucky there  may  be  a  few  old  men  and  women  who  will 
remember  a  young  fool  who  moved  with  his  wife  and 
children  to  the  unknown  land  of  Texas,  but  it  would 
serve  no  purpose  to  remind  them  of  it.  I  have  faced 
death  a  thousand  times,  and  now  that  "the  White  Horse 
and  His  Pale  Rider"  are  coming,  I  will  not  shrink  from 
the  summons.  When  the  Indians  murdered  my  wife  and 
children  I  lived  only  for  revenge,  and  have  followed  the 
life  of  a  frontier  rover,  going  wherever  I  could  kill  a 
red  and  take  a  scalp.' 

"I  smothered  a  groan,  for  I  could  make  no  response, 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  251 

and  the  remaining  hours  of  that  awful  night  were  a 
vigil  of  death. 

"The  subtle  poison  of  the  rattler's  bite  coursed  through 
poor  Turner's  veins  and  I  was  powerless  to  help  him. 
Soon  his  reason  took  its  flight,  and  he  tossed  in  wild  de- 
lirium until  the  end.  Gents,  you  can't  begin  to  imagine 
the  terrible  ordeal  through  which  I  passed,  listening  to 
his  wild  ravings,  and  expecting  any  minute  to  feel  the 
deadly  fangs  sink  into  my  own  flesh. 

"You  see,  as  the  fiery  poison  spread  through  his  veins 
his  ravings  became  awful,  and  they  burned  their  way 
into  my  brain  until  I  can  remember  almost  every  word  at 
this  moment. 

"Whether  the  eyes  of  his  soul  actually  saw  the  awful 
scenes  that  he  described  in  his  mad  delirium,  I  am  not 
prepared  to  say,  but  to  me,  under  the  circumstances,  they 
were  real.  Yes,  I  saw,  in  the  inky  darkness,  as  if  in  a 
vivid  dream,  the  unfolding  of  the  horrible  picture,  and 
accompanied  him  through  it  all.  And  I  sometimes  think 
that  by  reason  of  the  realism,  as  the  shifting  panorama 
ran  through  my  brain,  the  startling  revelation  was  all  that 
saved  me  from  becoming  a  raving  maniac. 

"Shall  I  recite  that  part,  where  he  described  entering 
the  lower  regions?" 

We  were  so  deeply  interested — spellbound,  as  it  were 
— that  we  only  nodded  our  heads  in  reply,  for  fear  of 
breaking  the  spell  of  "Smoky's"  story.  As  he  took  up 
the  thread  of  his  narrative,  we,  too,  seemed  to  actually 
see  the  exciting  scenes  of  his  recital. 

"Well,  gents,  after  many  short  flights  into  the  un- 
known, he  seemed  determined  to  enter  the  lower  regions. 

"All  at  once  he  grasped  my  arm,  and  in  a  hoarse,  un- 
natural voice,  said :  'Look !  there  is  a  hole  in  the  ground 
— 'tis  the  skylight  to  hell — strange  the  devil  should  leave 
it  uncovered. 


252  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"  'Come,  here  is  a  rare  chance — look  down  there — what 
a  queer  country  it  is!  Oh,  here  is  a  winding  stairs  that 
rests  upon  the  top  of  a  high  mountain — come,  quick, 
there  is  no  one  in  sight — we  will  go  down  and  investigate. 
Say,  it  makes  me  dizzy  to  look  down  into  the  great 
depths — be  careful  or  you  will  fall — mercy!  it's  getting 
too  hot — let's  stop  and  get  our  breath.  I  wish  I  had  a 
linen  duster  instead  of  this  overcoat — say,  stop,  it's  get- 
ting sizzling  hot.  Wonder  if  we  didn't  make  a  mistake 
coming  down  here?  Let's  go  back;  it's  too  hot  to  go 
ahead.  Oh,  come  back!  Don't  leave  me  alone  in  this 
awful  place. 

"  'Holy  smoke !  Some  one  is  coming  up  the  stairs, 
and  he  is  dressed  in  red  from  head  to  foot,  with  long 
pointed  shoes  to  match.  Look,  he  is  armed  with  a  three- 
pronged  trident.  No,  I'm  alone  now  and  cannot  escape 
— the  door  to  the  skylight  is  closed. 

"  'Oh,  now  he  sees  me — look  at  his  dark  fiery  eyes — 
listen,  he  speaks  to  me! 

"  '  "Aha ;  A  stranger  in  hell  ?  How  came  he  thither  ? 
Not  by  the  established  route,  via  death  and  the  grave, 
for  his  soul  is  still  dwelling  in  the  tabernacle  of  clay. 
Can  it  be  that  he  came  through  the  skylight?  It  never 
happened  before;  it  must  not  happen  again.  He  must 
not  escape  and  go  back  to  earth,  to  reveal  what  he  has 
seen.  But  can  I  preserve  him  alive,  in  the  flesh?  It 
would  be  an  experiment  worth  trying.  Perhaps  a  fire- 
proof suit,  lined  with  a  vacuum  of  congealed  air,  might 
answer  the  purpose. 

" '  "Stranger,  how  dare  you  to  enter  his  Majesty's  do- 
minion except  through  the  regular  route  traveled  by  the 
lost  souls?  Thou  hast  violated  the  laws  of  hell,  that  for- 
bid flesh  and  blood  to  enter  here.  Only  the  spirits  of  the 
damned  are  tolerated  as  slaves  within  Satan's  kingdom. 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  253 

Now  I  go  to  prepare  to  transport  you  to  the  palace  of 
the  king,  where  the  heat  rises  seven  times  greater  than 
molten  iron.  In  the  meantime,  on  penalty  of  death  if 
you  disobey,  remain  here  until  my  return."  And,  rais- 
ing an  instrument  to  his  lips,  he  blew  a  loud,  keen  blast 
that  echoed  in  the  distance.  From  somewhere  in  space 
there  came  in  view  a  sedan  chair  carried  in  the  air  by 
four  flying  bat-winged  imps,  and  they  floated  down  to 
where  the  official  of  Satan  waited  on  the  stairs.  He  en- 
tered the  sedan  and  was  swiftly  wafted  away  to  the  king's 
palace. 

"  'Alone ;  'tis  a  strange  place  to  wait — wait  for  what  ? 
To  suffer  this  excessive  heat — perchance  to  perish  while 
the  perspiration  is  driven  through  my  pores  like  water 
from  a  sponge. 

"  'Ah,  now  my  vision  is  enlarging — I  see  the  length 
and  breadth  of  hell — look!  Far  away  the  bleak  moun- 
tains ascend  into  starless  darkness.  Yonder  glimmering 
fires  of  the  eternal  lake  of  brimstone  send  bluish  shafts 
of  light  between  the  lofty  peaks,  and  fantastic  shadows 
dance  along  the  mountain  sides.  Down  the  precipices 
great  caverns  yawn,  and  deep,  dark  ravines  cleave  the 
hills  in  twain.  Along  the  valleys  streaks  of  white  light 
zig-zag  over  the  surface  like  forked  lightning. 

"  'In  the  distance  is  a  great  walled  city ;  yet  there  is 
not  a  single  habitation  in  the  barren  waste  surrounding 
it.  At  the  base  of  the  mountains  are  millions  of  little 
specks  going  in  and  out  of  burrows  like  an  army  of 
ants. 

"  'Yes,  hell  is  populated — populated  with  souls  of  the 
damned,  who  like  so  many  salamanders  live  in  the 
eternal  fires  forever  and  aye. 

"  'Far  above  the  walls  of  the  Eternal  City  rises  an  im- 
mense dome  over  whose  top  can  be  seen  a  swarm  of  bat- 


254  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

winged  imps  waiting  for  orders  from  the  devil's  emis- 
saries. Upon  the  parapet  of  the  walls  of  the  city  an 
army  of  red  devils  are  on  guard. 

"  'Somewhere  within  these  walls  Satan  and  all  his  min- 
ions dwell,  and  hold  in  subjection  millions  of  damned 
souls. 

"  'Listen !  What  means  this  commotion  in  the  air  ? 
See,  'tis  the  bat-winged  imps  floating  a  closed  sedan. 
They  are  coming;  nearer  and  nearer!  Now  it  floats  at 
my  side ;  the  curtain  rolls  up,  and  he  who  bade  me  wait 
on  the  stair,  sits  within.  Stepping  quickly  from  the 
sedan,  he  presents  me  with  a  suit  of  red,  similar  to  a 
diver's  rig. 

"  '  "Attire  yourself,  stranger,  at  once,"  he  commands. 
And,  for  the  first  time  since  his  departure,  I  realize  that 
my  flesh  has  undergone  a  transformation.  Oh,  horrors ! 
my  clothing  has  disappeared  and  my  flesh  resembles 
parchment.  What  can  have  happened  to  it  without  my 
knowledge?  Have  I  been  mummified  and  yet  live? 

"  'As  I  hesitate,  the  sharp  words  of  command  ring 
out !  "Ho,  imps !  grasp  the  victim  and  thrust  him  within 
this  suit." 

"  'In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  two  of  the  bat-winged 
imps  grasp  me.  Two  more  open  the  suit,  thrust  my  lower 
limbs  into  inflated  legs;  then  by  a  dextrous  movement 
manipulate  spiral  springs,  and  the  upper  portion  arises 
to  admit  my  body  and  head,  and  now  it  comes  together 
and  clasps — I'm  sealed  within.  They  hustle  me  into  the 
sedan,  and  the  official  of  Satan  follows  and  pulls 
down  the  curtains  :  "Away  to  the  palace!"  he  shouts. 

"  'I  know  not  what  I  am  now — I  do  know  I  am  not 
flesh  and  blood — 'tis  a  strange  body,  devoid  of  all  feel- 
ing— no  pleasure,  no  pain — nerves  wrought  like  steel — 
body  metallic.  "Tell  me,  thou  strange  being,  what  has 
come  over  me?" 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  255 

"  '  "It  is  my  Royal  Master's  pleasure  that  thou  shalt 
forever  dwell  in  hell.  Thy  presence  within  the  secret 
door,  that  communicates  with  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
has  made  him  very  angry.  At  first  he  decided  to  throw 
you  into  the  fiery  pit  of  damnation,  but  at  the  suggestion 
of  the  vice-devil,  who  is  a  scientist,  you  are  to  demon- 
strate the  process  of  gradual  transformation,  that  makes 
it  possible  to  save  the  mummified  body  of  man  as  well  as 
his  soul.  Therefore,  you  were  left  on  the  stairs  until 
the  heat  gradually  absorbed  the  moisture,  blood  and  fat 
of  your  body.  And  now  you  will  be  carried  to  where 
the  intense  sulphuric  atmosphere  will  complete  your 
transformation.  If  we  succeed,  you  will  become  a  rare 
specimen  for  freaks.  But  here  we  are  above  the  re- 
ceiving tower  of  the  palace ;  we  now  descend  to  the  land- 
ing." 

"  'A  moment  of  slow,  downward  movement,  and  the 
sedan  swings  at  the  landing  platform,  where  four  foot- 
men grasp  the  handles  and  carry  it  through  the  grand 
hall,  to  the  large  swinging  doors  of  the  king's  audience 
chamber.  The  doors  are  opened  and  the  sound  of  many 
voices  is  heard. 

!  "Ho,  there,  minions !  deposit  the  sedan  and  retire. 
Come  forth,  Pluto,  and  let  the  prisoner  stand  before  the 
council." 

"  Tluto  raises  the  curtain  of  the  sedan  and  commands 
me  to  follow. 

"  'And  now  I'm  blinded  by  red  glaring  lights — now 
my  vision  returns — a  most  wonderful  scene !  I  stand  in 
the  center  of  a  dome-covered  chamber.  In  front  is  the 
throne,  occupied  by  Satan  himself,  king  of  all  the  devils. 
In  hideous  grandeur  he  looks  down  upon  me  with  his 
fierce  eyes  that  burn  through  and  through  me  like  red 
hot  bars  of  steel — cruel  eyes  that  slant  to  the  bridge  of 


256  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

his  nose,  giving  the  expression  of  fox-like  cunning.  His 
nose  is  like  an  eagle's  beak,  almost  touching  his  cynical 
mouth,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  narrow  from  his  low  fore- 
head to  his  sharp  chin,  and  his  mouth  has  a  perpetual 
sneer. 

"  'Satan  and  all  his  councilors  are  clad  in  tight-fitting 
suits  of  red,  with  cloaks  and  cowls.  Thirteen  councilors 
sit  in  a  semi-circle  in  front  of  the  throne.  Satan  holds  in 
his  right  hand  a  trident  with  glittering  points.  In  this 
vast  chamber  the  official  business  of  hell  is  transacted. 

"  'In  the  center  of  this  chamber  is  the  bottomless  pit ; 
into  its  depths  are  cast  those  who  commit  treason  against 
the  king  of  hell. 

"  'As  I  make  these  observations  the  devil  watches  me 
with  a  critical  eye  and  says : 

" '  "Stranger,  you  were  saved  from  physical  death  to 
test  a  scientific  theory  advanced  by  our  vice-devil,  else 
you  would  have  been  hurled  into  the  lake  of  fire  and 
brimstone  for  defying  the  laws  of  hell  and  the  mandate 
of  the  ruler  of  the  universe,  by  entering  my  dominion 
clothed  in  flesh  and  blood,  instead  of  coming  via  the  route 
of  death  and  the  grave." 

"  '  "Oh,  King,"  I  reply,  "I  came  not  within  thy  domin- 
ion by  design,  but  found  the  opening  by  chance." 

"  '  "Well,  it  matters  not  now ;  your  coming  is  without 
precedent,  and  if  your  transformation  is  made  from  flesh 
and  blood  to  a  being  impervious  to  the  intense  heat  of 
hell,  it  will  also  be  without  precedent.  Here,  Pluto, 
take  him  to  the  fireproof  clothing  room  and  robe  him 
for  the  journey  down  the  main  shaft  to  the  vice-devil's 
experimental  laboratory." 

"  'And  Pluto  led  me  to  a  long,  low  room,  where  hun- 
dreds of  red  suits  hung  on  the  walls. 

"  'Commanding  me  to  discard  the  clumsy  suit  I  wore 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  257 

in  the  sedan,  he  assists  me  to  robe  myself  in  a  tight-fit- 
ting suit  with  cloak  and  cowl,  and  mica  eye  protectors. 

" '  "This  way,  stranger,"  says  Pluto,  as  he  leads  the 
way  to  the  platform  around  the  main  shaft,  and  grasping 
a  tube  he  shouted  an  order  to  the  central  messenger 
office. 

"  'In  a  few  moments  from  the  depths  below  there  came 
floating  up  the  main  shaft,  supported  by  four  bat-winged 
imps,  an  open  sedan  that  came  to  the  level  of  the  plat- 
form and  remained  stationary. 

" '  "Enter,  stranger,  I  follow,"  and  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand,  Pluto  pointed  to  the  sedan. 

"  'When  seated,  the  imps  flop  their  wings  in  unison, 
and  we  circle  to  the  center  of  the  shaft  and  begin  to  float 
down — down — down — into  the  depths  below. 

"  'From  somewhere  in  the  unknown  depths  come 
shrieks  of  agony. 

"  'With  an  exclamation  of  horror,  I  lean  over  the  side 
of  the  sedan  and  look  down ;  far  below  is  a  burning  cal- 
dron; the  molten  glare  of  its  bluish  flames  lights  up  the 
hideous  faces  of  the  pitchfork  devils  as  they  hurl  the  lost 
souls  into  the  everlasting  fires  of  hell.  Pluto  smiles. 
Down — down — it  grows  darker  and  the  shrieks  louder; 
great  snakes  are  twisting  and  writhing,  and  enormous 
lizards  are  clinging  to  the  sides  of  the  pit.  See!  there 
goes  a  vicious  dragon  ;  look  at  his  flashing  eyes — horror ! 
Oh,  save  me!  Here  comes  a  gigantic  ogre — his  great 
jaws  are  open — fire  comes  from  his  nostrils — he  ap- 
proaches— extends  his  claws — grasps  me — thrusts  me 
into  his  capacious  mouth — 'tis  the  end.' 

"Say,  gents,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  man's  hair  turning 
gray  in  a  night?  I  am  not  an  old  man  now,  but  I  lived 
a  lifetime  that  awful  night.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  ap- 
pear queer  and  men  shun  me?  Try  to  imagine  for  a 

17 


258  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

brief  moment  the  terrible  position  of  a  man  in  a  den  of 
rattlesnakes,  listening  to  the  ravings  of  your  companion, 
erazed  with  the  deadly  poison  that  entered  his  veins 
through  the  fangs  of  a  rattler,  and  in  his  wild  delirium 
journeying  through  the  horrors  of  hell,  then  you  can 
have  a  slight  conception  of  the  night  Turner  died. 

"I  hope  you  will  never  have  such  an  experience.  But 
if  along  the  rugged  path  of  life  the  unforeseen  should 
happen,  pray  to  the  all-wise  Creator  to  blot  out  the 
memory  of  it,  and  allow  you  to  forget. 

"How  often  have  I  awaked  in  the  night  and  lived  over 
again  the  scene  in  the  rattlesnakes'  den  near  Fort  Phan- 
tom hill ! 

"Turner  died  just  as  the  streaks  of  the  morning  light 
revealed  the  opening  through  which  we  entered  the 
cavern.  Somewhere  into  some  of  the  many  openings 
the  snakes  disappeared,  leaving  me  alone  with  the  dead. 
Say,  gents,  do  you  see  these  gray  hairs  and  this  haggard 
face?  That  night  of  horrors  did  it.  And  that  I'm  not 
a  violent  maniac  is  a  great  wonder.  Over  and  over  again 
it  comes  to  me  like  an  awful  nightmare,  and  I  live  to 
hear  and  see  Turner  go  through  that  struggle  with  death. 
Is  it  anything  strange  that  I  should  be  different  from 
other  men?  They  call  me  crazy,  and  some  fear  and 
others  pity  me,  but  none  know  how  the  scourge  of  mem- 
ory drives  me  wandering  over  the  range.  Slowly  and 
sadly  I  pulled  the  swollen  body  of  Turner  through  the 
rocky  passage,  and  gently  lowered  it  to  the  bed  of  the 
ravine.  After  reconnoitering,  I  could  see  and  hear 
nothing  of  the  Indians.  Temporarily  covering  Turner's 
body  with  brush  and  rocks,  to  protect  it  from  varmints, 
I  climbed  up  the  steep  bank  of  the  ravine  to  where  I 
could  take  observations.  A  quarter  of  a  mile's  walk  and 
I  arrived  at  the  camp  of  the  night  before,  where,  to  my 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  259 

surprise,  I  found  Burton  and  his  family  cooking  break- 
fast. From  them  I  learned  that  a  detachment  of  the  7th 
Cavalry  and  a  band  of  Tonkawa  scouts  were  on  the  Co- 
manches'  trail  at  the  time  they  attacked  us,  and  heard 
the  firing,  and  hurried  up  in  time  to  exchange  shots  with 
the  reds,  who  were  now  in  full  retreat,  with  the  soldiers 
and  Tonks  at  their  heels. 

"With  the  aid  of  Burton  we  made  a  litter  and  carried 
Turner's  body  to  the  mouth  of  the  ravine;  then  placing 
it  in  his  wagon,  drove  to  a  knoll  in  sight  of  the  ghostly 
chimneys  of  Old  Fort  Phantom  hill,  and  there  we  dug 
his  grave  and  buried  him,  and  a  pile  of  rough  stones 
marks  the  last  resting  place  of  Jeff  Turner,  the  'Indian 
hater.'  " 

So  deeply  interested,  and  so  closely  had  Texas  and  his 
companions  followed  every  detail  of  "Smoky's"  recital 
of  his  wonderful  experience,  that  not  a  word  was  spoken 
for  several  minutes  after  he  ceased  to  talk.  Then  one  after 
the  other  arose  and  took  his  hand,  as  a  silent  token  of 
sympathy  and  a  bond  of  friendship  with  this  strange  man. 

At  last  Jacobs  arose  and  said :  "We  thank  you  for  tell- 
ing us  your  experience,  'Smoky,'  and  we  want  you  to 
know  that  every  man  here  is  your  friend.  Now,  unroll 
your  blankets,  boys,  and  make  a  shakedown  if  you  want 
to  get  any  sleep  before  day,  for  if  I  mistake  not,  it  is  long 
after  midnight."  In  a  few  minutes  all,  including 
"Smoky"  were  wrapped  in  slumber. 

It  was  8  a.  m.  before  Texas  and  his  companions  awoke, 
and  then  only  when  Jacobs  accidentally  dropped  a  tin 
pan  during  his  preparations  for  breakfast. 

When  all  had  satisfied  their  appetites,  plans  were 
formulated  to  enjoy  an  outing  among  the  buffalo  hunt- 
ers in  the  vicinity.  After  considerable  persuasion, 
"Smoky"  was  induced  to  make  one  of  the  party,  and  by 
noon  the  outfit  was  on  its  way  to  John  Causey's  camp. 


260  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

That  the  reader  may  intelligently  understand  the  sit- 
uation, it  is  necessary  to  enter  into  a  description  of  this 
business  that  made  a  vast  slaughter  pen  of  Northwest 
Texas. 

This  being  the  third  year  of  the  great  hunting  season 
that  led  to  the  extermination  of  the  buffalo,  the  uninhab- 
ited prairies  west  of  Fort  Phantom  hill  were  occupied 
by  an  army  of  5,000  aggressive  men,  engaged  in  the 
wholesale  slaughter  of  these  animals  for  the  profit  de- 
rived from  the  sale  of  their  hides.  The  business  was  car- 
ried on  in  a  systematic  way,  and  possessed  none  of  the 
charms  that  attend  the  chase.  All  the  details  were  care- 
fully planned  and  deliberately  carried  out  by  the  intrepid 
hunter  with  the  same  calm  consideration  that  would  have 
characterized  their  actions  in  any  other  business  enter- 
prise. Each  outfit  was  organized,  equipped  and  provi- 
sioned for  the  season,  which  generally  lasted  from  three 
to  six  months,  depending  entirely  on  the  movements  of 
the  buffalo.  The  hunter  was  the  boss  of  the  outfit,  a 
kind  of  generalissimo,  whose  orders  were  the  unwritten 
law  during  the  season's  hunt.  His  accouterments  con- 
sisted of  a  pair  of  overalls,  blue  flannel  shirt,  duck  jacket, 
a  go-as-you-please  hat  and  top-boots.  He  was  generally 
armed  with  a  Sharp's  .45  caliber  rifle,  commonly  known 
as  the  "buffalo  gun,"  together  with  a  long  camp-knife 
and  a  six-shooter.  He  carried  his  cartridges  in  a  double- 
width  belt,  supplying  100  rounds  for  a  day's  hunt.  The 
barrel  of  the  gun  was  three  inches  in  diameter  and  very 
heavy,  to  prevent  heating  during  continuous  firing.  This 
made  it  necessary  for  the  hunter  to  carry  a  rest  stick 
to  support  the  gun  when  taking  aim.  Next  in  importance 
to  the  hunter  were  the  skinners;  generally  from  four  to 
six  men,  whose  duties  were  to  take  the  hides  from  the 
animals  and  load  them  into  the  wagon  to  be  hauled  to 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  261 

camp,  where  all  hands  staked  them  out  to  dry.  The  re- 
maining member  of  the  outfit  was  the  cook.  From  six 
to  eight  men,  equipped  as  described,  founded  a  camp  near 
some  water  hole  within  the  range  occupied  by  the  buf- 
falo, and  if  successful  in  their  hunt  secured  from  five 
to  ten  thousand  hides  during  a  season.  In  this  camp 
the  hides  were  salted,  poisoned  against  insects  and  dried 
in  the  sun,  ready  to  be  hauled  to  market.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  buffalo  hunter's  camp  would  be  no  place  to 
invite  a  housekeeper.  A  promiscuous  confusion  of  pots, 
skillets,  skin-pegs,  ammunition  boxes,  provisions  and 
blankets  made  a  wild  disorder  that  would  disgust  a 
woman  beyond  an  apology. 

The  sun  was  about  one  hour  high  when  the  horses 
shied  around  a  pile  of  hides  in  front  of  Causey's  tepee, 
an  Indian  hut  made  of  poles  and  hides.  Only  one  man, 
Jim  Smith,  was  in  camp,  building  a  fire  and  making 
preparations  to  cook  supper  for  the  outfit.  The  other 
men  belonging  to  the  camp  had  not  returned  from  the 
day's  hunt.  After  the  usual  salutation  with  Jim,  Texas 
and  his  companions  at  once  unharnessed  their  horses  and 
prepared  to  remain  over  night.  Knowing  the  custom 
among  frontiersmen,  they  did  not  stand  on  ceremony,  and 
when  the  hunters  and  skinners  arrived  they  were  com- 
fortably quartered  within  ten  yards  of  the  tepee,  feeling 
perfectly  at  home  under  the  circumstances.  They  were 
invited  to  partake  of  the  supper  prepared  by  the  camp's 
cook,  principally  composed  of  fresh  buffalo  hump,  cof- 
fee, bread  and  potatoes.  After  the  supper  was  disposed 
of  the  members  of  both  parties  engaged  in  a  general 
conversation,  on  the  current  topics  that  sifted  through 
the  old  papers  and  the  mail  from  the  East.  Especially 
interesting  was  Causey's  detailed  account  of  the  attack 
on  Poe  and  Jacob's  camp  ten  miles  west,  a  few  days  be- 


262  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

fore,  by  a  small  band  of  Comanches  who  escaped  from 
the  Fort  Sill  reservation.  A  few  well  directed  shots  from 
John  Poe's  buffalo  gun  sent  them  helter-skelter  over  the 
sand  hills  out  of  sight.  A  detachment  of  soldiers  sent 
out  by  General  McKinzie  had  captured  the  young  bucks 
and  were  on  their  way  to  the  reservation.  The  chief, 
when  questioned  about  the  attack,  remarked:  "Me  heap 
no  like  him  buffalo  gun — him  shoot  to-day  and  kill  to- 
morrow— heap  bad  medicine" — trying  to  express  his 
surprise  at  the  long  distance  that  the  gun  carried. 

There  is  genuine  enjoyment  in  sitting  around  a  camp 
fire  and  drawing  the  seductive  tobacco  smoke  through  the 
stem  of  a  pipe,  while  listening  to  the  yarns  spun  by  your 
companions,  'til  the  drowsy  god  reminds  you  that  it  is 
time  to  spread  the  blankets  for  the  night.  Then  upon 
some  grassy  spot,  to  sleep  as  sound  beneath  the  twinkling 
stars  as  when  you  listened  to  the  first  sweet  songs  that 
kept  time  with  the  motion  of  the  cradle. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  every  one  was 
stirring  around  Causey's  camp,  and  by  daylight  enjoy- 
ing a  delicious  piece  of  buffalo  meat  with  double-strength 
coffee  to  arouse  dormant  energies  for  the  day's  hunt. 
After  the  morning  meal  all  hands  and  the  visitors  joined 
the  hunter  and  the  skinners  who  were  ready  to  start. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  and  the  sharp,  pure  air 
sent  the  blood  coursing  through  the  veins  with  renewed 
vigor.  Texas  and  his  companions  were  to  be  given  an 
opportunity  of  witnessing  all  the  details  of  killing  buf- 
falo and  saving  the  hides.  They  climbed  into  Causey's 
wagon  and  were  driven  to  the  top  of  an  elevation  a  mile 
distant,  overlooking  the  surrounding  valleys,  where 
Causey  used  his  field  glass  to  locate  a  herd  of  buffalo  two 
miles  west.  Causey,  who  was  an  experienced  hunter  of 
two  seasons,  directed  the  driver  to  follow  a  course  that 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  263 

would  keep  an  elevated  knoll  between  the  outfit  and  the 
herd,  so  that  the  buffalo  would  not  stampede  before  he 
arrived  within  shooting  distance. 

The  necessity  for  caution  aroused  suppressed  excite- 
ment, and  only  the  admonition  of  Causey  to  keep  quiet 
kept  the  enthusiasm  within  bounds.  Arriving  at  the  base 
of  the  knoll,  the  whole  outfit  alighted  from  the  wagon, 
and  with  Causey  in  the  lead  ascended  the  knoll.  When 
near  the  top  he  commanded  the  other  men  to  lie  down 
until  he  took  observation.  He  would  raise  his  hand 
when  it  was  time  for  them  to  crawl  up  and  witness  the 
herd  under  fire.  It  was  several  minutes  before  he  sig- 
naled that  he  was  ready  to  begin  the  killing. 

When  the  signal  was  given,  Texas  and  his  companions 
slowly  made  their  way  to  where  Causey  was  leveling  his 
gun.  Here  they  had  an  excellent  view  of  the  situation. 
There  was  the  herd  300  yards  distant,  leisurely  grazing 
on  the  prairie,  unmindful  of  the  danger. 

It  was  a  grand  sight  to  see  those  shaggy  animals  in 
their  natural  element — the  wild  bison  of  America,  asso- 
ciated in  every  schoolboy's  mind  with  the  stirring  tales 
of  frontier  life ;  with  Kit  Carson  and  "Buffalo  Bill,"  the 
names  linked  with  the  buffalo  and  Indians.  In  fact,  the 
early  history  of  America  would  not  be  complete  without 
the  bison,  which,  Webster  says,  was  erroneously  called 
buffalo. 

Getting  a  stand  was  the  most  interesting  part  of  the 
hunter's  duties  in  connection  with  the  day's  hunt.  To 
do  this  he  must  shoot  the  leader  down  in  his  tracks ;  then 
by  a  series  of  skillful  shots,  aimed  to  ricochet  in  the 
dust  and  confuse  the  buffalo,  causing  them  to  run  in  a 
circle,  becoming  more  and  more  compact,  like  the  wind- 
ing of  an  endless  chain,  until  in  this  crowded  condition 
they  became  too  bewildered  to  break  away.  This  state 


264  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE  SPUR 

was  what  the  cattlemen  called  milling.  The  leader  of 
the  herd,  a  bull  buffalo,  was  grazing  about  ten  steps  in 
advance  of  the  herd,  and  from  time  to  time  raised  his 
head  on  the  lookout  for  danger. 

A  growth  of  cactus  and  catclaws  on  the  crest  of  the 
knoll  formed  an  excellent  screen  for  Causey  and  the  four 
young  men  who  were  anxious  to  witness  the  operations 
of  the  hunter.  Taking  advantage  of  the  screen,  Causey 
raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture  and  began  to  recon- 
noiter.  Then  he  adjusted  his  cartridge  belt,  picked  up 
his  gun  and  rest  stick.  Placing  the  stick  in  front,  he 
raised  himself  upon  one  knee,  placed  the  barrel  of  the 
gun  upon  the  stick  and  pointed  it  in  the  direction  of  the 
herd.  One  of  the  men  directed  the  visitor's  attention  to 
the  bull  feeding  in  front  of  the  herd.  The  next  instant 
the  sharp  crack  of  Causey's  gun  was  heard,  and  the 
animal  pitched  forward  upon  his  knees,  and  slowly  sank 
to  the  ground.  During  the  next  half-hour  an  exciting 
scene  lay  before  them. 

When  the  report  of  the  rifle  crashed  with  its  startling 
effect,  every  animal  in  the  herd  raised  its  head  and  looked 
wildly  around,  but  only  for  a  moment;  then  they  all 
rushed  away  at  full  speed  toward  the  south,  and  the  vis- 
itors expected  to  see  them  run  out  of  range  of  the  hunt- 
er's rifle,  but  a  few  well  directed  shots  in  the  dirt  in  front 
of  them,  turned  the  herd  to  the  east,  then  to  the  north, 
to  the  west  and  again  to  the  south,  until  they  began  to 
mill  and  became  perfectly  bewildered  by  their  own  move- 
ments, and  seemed  to  huddle  together  for  mutual  pro- 
tection. What  a  grand,  awful  picture  was  presented! 
A  herd  of  wild  animals  trembling  with  fright,  while  each 
report  of  the  deadly  rifle  lessened  their  number,  one  by 
one,  until  the  living  were  fenced  in  by  the  dead.  A  grand 
triumph  of  science  and  intellect  over  animal  instinct.  At 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  265 

last  the  hunter's  gun  became  so  hot  it  was  dangerous 
to  attempt  to  load  it.  Then  came  an  intermission,  during 
which  time  the  remainder  of  the  herd  scampered  off  in 
a  southerly  direction,  leaving  their  dead  and  wounded 
at  the  mercy  of  the  skinners.  Texas  and  companions 
followed  the  skinners  down  from  the  top  of  the  knoll 
to  where  the  buffalo  lay  in  an  area  of  about  100  yards. 
Using  their  six-shooters  the  skinners  killed  the  wounded. 
A  few  motherless  calves  that  had  escaped  the  bullets 
were  knocked  in  the  head.  Fifty-three  buffalo  had  fallen 
and  now  the  skinners  prepared  to  take  their  hides  off. 
Each  carried  two  knives  and  a  steel  to  sharpen  them. 
These  skinners  were  artists  in  their  line.  With  one 
stroke  of  the  knife  they  encircled  the  hock  above  the 
hoof,  then  a  quick  movement  of  the  hand  split  the  hide 
down  each  leg  and  along  the  animal's  belly  to  its  under- 
jaw.  Then,  with  a  large  curved  skinning  knife,  the  hide 
was  removed  in  the  incredibly  short  time  of  from  five 
to  eight  minutes.  Nothing  was  saved  except  the  tongues 
and  hides.  Consequently,  from  $15  to  $20  worth  of  fine 
meat  was  destroyed  to  save  a  dollar  hide.  After  the  work 
of  removing  the  hides  was  finished  each  man  carefully 
wiped  his  knife  and  returned  it  to  the  scabbard  attached 
to  his  belt.  Then  began  the  operation  of  salting  and  roll- 
ing the  hides,  preparatory  to  hauling  them  to  camp.  Hav- 
ing seen  all  that  was  worth  seeing  connected  with  the 
killing  and  skinning,  Texas  and  his  companions  jumped 
into  the  wagon  and  returned  to  camp  with  the  first  load 
of  hides,  to  watch  the  staking  process.  The  hides  were 
taken  from  the  wagon  and  carried  to  a  clear  plot  of  grass, 
where  they  were  carefully  unrolled  and  stretched  tight, 
to  their  full  capacity,  and  stakes  driven  into  the  outer 
edge  to  hold  them  until  perfectly  dry,  and  piled  in  a  ri 
to  wait  transportation. 


266  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Among  the  old  bull  buffaloes  that  led  the  herds  up  and 
down  Panhandle  there  were  many  wise  heads  that  had 
learned  from  experience  that  there  was  danger  in  the 
sight  of  a  covered  wagon.  This  became  so  pronounced 
that  during  the  latter  years  of  the  hunting  season  in 
Northwest  Texas  all  outfits  carefully  concealed  their 
wagonsheets  and  avoided  displaying  anything  white.  In 
fact,  like  all  animals  that  had  come  in  contact  with  the 
deadly  effects  of  the  hunter's  gun,  it  required  the  utmost 
caution  to  approach  within  shooting  distance  of  the  herd 
'and  prevent  a  stampede. 

Consequently,  when  Texas  and  his  companions  were 
slowly  plodding  their  way  up  the  long  divide  between  the 
Deep  creek  of  the  Colorado  and  the  Clear  Fork  of  the 
Brazos,  they  were  not  surprised  when  rounding  the  point 
of  a  low  mountain  and  coming  within  view  of  a  large 
herd,  that  as  soon  as  the  animals  caught  sight  of  the  flap- 
ping wagonsheet  they  turned  tail  and  fled. 

As  the  great  herd  swept  up  the  valley  of  the  Deep 
creek,  driven  by  the  frenzied  fear  that  only  the  brain 
of  an  excited  buffalo  can  conjure  up,  when  whirled  in 
the  cyclone  of  stampede,  the  crush  was  awful. 

Great  billows  of  dust  rolled  up  like  the  thunder  clouds 
that  hover  along  the  storm's  path  when  the  sky  is  dark- 
ened and  the  elements  tremble.  Those  on  the  outside 
pressed  closer  and  closer  on  the  struggling  mass,  that 
grew  dense  from  force  of  numbers.  The  weak  and  young 
were  carried  along  and  only  escaped  death  because  there 
was  not  room  enough  to  fall  down.  But  one  large,  shaggy 
bull,  perhaps  destined  to  some  day  lead  the  herd  could  he 
have  lived,  thrust  his  fore  foot  into  a  dog  hole  and  the  leg 
snapped  like  a  pipe  stem  as  the  momentum  threw  him 
fceneath  the  sharp  hoofs  that  cut  and  mangled  his  body 
into  a  shapeless  thing,  quivering  and  jerking  as  the  last 
spark  of  life  escaped. 


ON   THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  267 

The  great  herd  passed  by  and  disappeared  over  the 
divide  as  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  scintillated  over  the 
mesquite  grass. 

The  sunset  and  the  gray  shadows  of  the  twilight  deep- 
ened into  darker  hues  as  the  night  came  on,  and  Texas 
and  his  companions  camped  on  the  side  of  the  trail  at 
Sand  Rock  springs.  The  moon  arose,  and  its  soft  light 
melted  the  rough  edges  off  the  landscape  and  painted  a 
beautiful  picture  to  look  upon.  Insect  nature  was  still. 
The  onrush  of  the  great  herd  had  driven  it  into  seclusion 
and  it  had  not  even  ventured  to  chirp,  lest  it  once  more 
awaken  that  awful  roar.  But  out  there  where  the  carcass 
of  the  dead  bull  lies,  his  rich,  red  blood  is  staining  the 
prairie,  and  the  scent  of  it  has  floated  out  on  the  night 
breeze  until  it  has  awakened  the  savage  lust  of  a  coyote 
on  the  mountain  side.  He  stops,  raises  his  head  high  in 
the  air  until  his  muzzle  points  heavenward  and  he  begins 
to  utter  a  series  of  short,  sharp  yelps,  ending  in  a  pro- 
longed wail  as  he  arises  from  his  haunches  and  trots 
off  briskly  to  find  the  carcass  and  feast.  The  yelps  and 
wail  are  answered  by  another  wolf  in  the  distance,  and 
then  another  joins  in,  and  now  is  heard  the  well  known 
coyote  chorus.  In  the  morning  the  polished  bones  will 
testify  that  they  feasted  and  fought  all  night  and  skulked 
away  to  their  dens  in  the  gray  light  from  the  East. 

The  ways  of  divine  Providence  are  hard  to  understand, 
and  no  doubt  'tis  best  for  man  not  to  philosophize  when 
he  can  not  have  a  reason  why  that  it  is  necessary  for  life 
to  subsist  upon  life  to  sustain  life. 

And  before  passing  over  this  incident  of  their  home- 
ward bound  journey  it  is  well  to  notice  a  queer  condition 
of  the  camping  ground. 

On  the  highest  point  of  this  divide  was  a  bubbling 
spring  in  the  bottom  of  a  basin  of  sandstone,  known  as 


268  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Sand  Rock  springs.  In  either  direction  the  country 
sloped  down  into  the  valleys  along  the  streams,  and  it 
was  twenty  miles  to  water. 

This  was  a  famous  camping  ground  for  the  hunters, 
Indians  and  trail  outfits.  By  reason  of  the  high  eleva- 
tion the  Indians,  when  on  the  war  path,  used  it  to  light 
their  signal  fires  to  communicate  with  their  red  brothers 
on  some  distant  peak.  But,  like  every  other  advantage 
possessed  by  the  Indians,  the  white  man  appropriated  it. 

The  bubbling  water  of  this  spring  was  clear  and  cool, 
furnishing  a  refreshing  beverage  to  the  thirsty  traveler. 

Texas  and  his  companions  lingered  until  the  middle  of 
the  forenoon  before  resuming  their  journey  toward  the 
east,  after  spending  two  weeks  on  the  buffalo  range,  en- 
joying the  health-giving  exercises  and  amusing  incidents 
of  range  life. 

No  doubt,  buffalo  hunting  for  sport  is  attended  by  all 
the  grand  and  exciting  spirit  of  the  chase,  and  is  worthy 
of  the  ambition  of  sporting  men.  The  Grand  Duke 
Alexis,  father  of  the  present  czar  of  Russia,  devoted  two 
weeks  to  chasing  these  quadrupeds  on  the  Western  plains, 
and  called  it  rare  sport  But  the  systematic  killing  that 
reduced  buffalo  hunting  to  a  business,  during  the  years 
from  1875  to  1879,  destroyed  them,  leaving  only  a  few 
small  herds.  In  many  respects  the  extermination  of  the 
buffalo  has  been  a  blessing  to  Northwest  Texas.  The 
buffalo  was  the  Indian's  commissary,  and  as  long  as  they 
grazed  on  the  open  prairie  the  hostile  Indians  depredated 
upon  the  white  settlers.  The  buffalo  being  capable  of 
consuming  as  much  grass  as  any  other  animal  of  the 
bovine  species,  his  sudden  demise  opened  up  a  vast  graz- 
ing district  to  the  stockmen,  and  thousands  of  head  of 
cattle  were  fattened,  year  after  year,  where  once  the  buf- 
falo alone  held  possession.  Thousands  of  tons  of  the 


ON  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE  269 

bleached  bones  of  these  animals  have  been  shipped  to 
market,  to  be  ground  up  and  sold  as  fertilizer.  The  civ- 
ilizing influences  of  the  white  man  has  been  too  much 
for  the  buffalo  and  wild  Indian,  and  both  have  passed 
into  history.  The  remnant  of  the  great  herds  that  once 
roamed  at  will  over  the  prairies  of  the  Dakotas,  Colo- 
rado, New  Mexico  and  Texas  is  found  at  Charles  Good- 
night's  Palo  Duro  ranch  in  the  Panhandle,  and  in  the 
government  herd  in  the  Grand  Canyon. 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  GENUINE  COWBOY  AT  WORK 
AND  PLAY 

Behind  careless  sangfroid  and  beneath  rough  exterior, 
God  enthroned  a  true  man  who  will  bow  to  no  superior. 

NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN 

Search  the  world  over  for  manly  men — nature's  noble- 
men, who  scorned  to  do  an  underhand  trick  to  gain  an 
advantage  over  an  adversary,  making  the  price  of  honor 
so  high  that  dishonor  forfeited  the  life  of  the  betrayer, 
and  you  may  have  created  an  impossible  ideal.  But  go 
to  the  real  old-time  ranchman,  who  now  perhaps  is  a 
banker  or  dealer  in  high  finance,  and  ask  him  to  tell  you 
the  characteristics  of  those  bold,  reckless,  dare-devils 
that  he  used  to  employ  on  the  range,  who  could  laugh 
while  they  fought  the  robbers  and  Indians,  and  he  will 
tell  you  that  nowhere  on  God's  footstool  were  women  and 
children  safer  than  under  the  protecting  care  of  the  cow- 
boys. They  never  failed  to  respond  to  an  appeal  for  help 
when  the  lives  and  homes  of  the  early  settlers  were  in 
danger.  With  his  pony  and  arms  the  cowboy  placed  his 
life  at  their  service  and  boldly  marched  forth  to  victory 
or  death. 

Like  sailors  who  sailed  the  seas  over,  months  and 
months  out  of  sight  of  land,  the  cowboys  rode  the  prairies 
for  months  and  months  without  ever  visiting  a  settle- 
ment. Consequently,  like  sailors  on  shore,  when  they 
came  in  from  the  range  the  cowboys  turned  themselves 
loose  and  had  a  "high  old  time." 

270 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  271 

But  when  playtime  was  over  and  duty  called  they 
went  forth  without  a  murmur  or  a  note  of  protest  to  the 
wilds  once  more,  and  cheerfully  entered  into  the  rough 
life  that  gave  no  hope  of  pleasure. 

All  honor  to  the  Texas  cowboy,  living  or  dead.  With 
all  his  faults  his  virtues  were  many. 

He  did  picket  duty  far  out  on  the  frontier  when  civil- 
ization lingered  in  the  background,  trembling  with  fear 
lest  the  scalping  knife  and  tomahawk  come  marching 
down  the  trail. 

The  writer  of  this  volume  takes  great  pleasure  in  re- 
cording this  brief  tribute  to  the  cattlemen  and  cowboys, 
who  were  his  personal  friends  through  a  period  of  years, 
whose  bravery  was  beyond  question  and  whose  honor 
was  always  above  suspicion. 

The  ranchmen  and  cowboys  were  a  product  of  the 
times  in  which  they  lived — times  that  tried  men's  souls 
and  put  manhood  to  the  test  and  lives  hung  in  the  bal- 
ance. How  bravely  they  met  the  issues  and  vanquished 
every  foe,  is  a  matter  of  frontier  history. 

It  was  the  period  when  the  unwritten  law  of  hospital- 
ity drove  away  all  selfish  thought,  and  neighbor  vied  with 
neighbor  to  show  their  appreciation  of  the  blessings  of 
life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  Consequently, 
the  frontiersmen  learned  the  great  fundamental  truths 
and  the  secret  of  human  happiness,  "that  it  is  better  to 
give  than  to  receive."  The  desire  for  a  favor  became  a 
duty  to  him  who  received  the  request.  Many  a  time 
has  a  careless  cowboy  by  chance  overheard  a  ranchman's 
wife  say  that  she  was  out  of  needles,  thread  or  buttons, 
and  made  it  his  special  duty  to  ride  five  and  even  ten 
miles  out  of  his  way  to  secure  a  supply,  that  he  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  presenting  them  to  her  on  his  return 
to  the  ranch. 


272  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

A  ranchman  never  killed  a  beef  that  he  did  not  remem- 
ber his  neighbor  (sometimes  living  twenty  miles  distant) 
and  send  him  a  quarter. 

Generosity  was  a  cardinal  virtue  carried  to  an  extreme 
that  would  appear  ludicrous  in  this  day  of  sharp  compe- 
tition. 

The  appeals  of  the  sick  and  distressed  called  forth  a 
noble  response  from  the  scattered  ranchmen  and  cow- 
boys, who  vied  with  each  other  to  bring  the  first  relief. 
No  one  was  ever  called  on  to  solicit  aid ;  it  was  sufficient 
to  make  known  that  a  worthy  object  of  charity  had  been 
discovered  when  the  response  was  spontaneous. 

Written  obligations  for  small  loans  were  never  thought 
of.  I.  O.  U.,  based  on  the  honor  of  the  man,  secured 
from  one  to  a  thousand  dollars. 

Nowhere  on  the  earth  is  true  manhood  put  to  a  more 
severe  test  than  on  the  frontier.  It  requires  bravery, 
honor  and  integrity  to  fill  the  measure  that  Bobby  Burns 
laid  down  when  he  said :  "A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that." 

Many  things  we  gain  and  some  things  we  lose  in  the 
march  of  civilization. 

To  the  individual  heroism  and  fortitude  of  the  Texas 
cowboy  the  people  of  the  State  are  indebted  for  their 
present  wealth  and  resources,  and  the  writer  of  this  story 
is  pleased  to  say  that  many  of  the  erstwhile  cowboys  of 
Northwest  Texas  are  alive  to-day,  enjoying  the  fruits 
of  their  labors,  occupying  positions  high  in  financial  cir- 
cles, or  filling  positions  of  honor  and  trust,  with  the 
entire  confidence  of  the  people. 

A  ROUGH  HOUSE 

On  one  occasion,  in  the  old  Adobe  saloon,  known  as 
the  "Beehive"  by  reason  of  the  sign  over  the  door,  on 
one  end  of  which  was  painted  a  beehive,  followed  by  a 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  273 

piece  of  doggerel  poetry  that  informed  the  thirsty  trav- 
eler that — 

'In  this  hive  we  are  all  alive,  good  whisky  makes  us  funny, 
And  if  you  are  dry,  step  in  and  try  the  flavor  of  our  honey." 

In  this  old  ginmill  three  men  were  killed  and  two  of- 
ficers wounded.  The  cowboys  from  Millet's  ranch  in 
Baylor  county  were  making  a  night  of  it.  Jim  Bland, 
the  range  boss,  and  Charley  Reed  were  the  ring  leaders. 
They  were  in  the  billiard  room  shooting  out  the  lights, 
when  Sheriff  Bill  Cruger  was  notified.  Hastily  sum- 
moning County  Attorney  Jeffrys  and  Assessor  Bogard 
to  assist  him,  he  repaired  to  the  saloon  and  demanded 
that  Bland  and  Reed  surrender.  But  the  fighting  spirit 
of  the  cowboys  was  aroused,  and  instead  of  complying 
they  turned  their  guns  on  the  officers  and  a  fierce  battle 
was  fought  through  the  partition  door.  When  the  smoke 
cleared,  Bland  and  ex-Lieutenant  Meyers,  who  were  in 
the  billiard  room,  and  a  cowboy  by  the  name  of  Bran- 
non,  in  the  bar  room  were  killed,  Sheriff  Cruger  slightly 
wounded  and  County  Attorney  Jeffrys  shot  through  the 
right  breast. 

It  was  early  in  October  when  Texas  and  Kentuck  were 
invited  to  join  Lynch's  outfit  and  witness  the  final  grand 
round-up  of  the  season. 

The  organized  system  of  round-ups,  begun  in  the  early 
spring  and  carried  on  during  the  summer,  was  now  at  an 
end,  and  all  the  calves  and  unbranded  cattle  would  be 
cut  out  and  driven  to  the  home  ranch,  where  they  would 
be  marked  and  branded  before  being  turned  loose  during 
the  winter  months. 

After  seven  months,  occupied  in  hunting  out  the  breaks 
and  canyons,  driving  over  miles  and  miles  of  broad 
prairies,  the  strenuous  labors  of  the  cowboys'  season  was 

18 


274  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

nearing  the  end  and  he  could  look  forward  to  a  few 
months'  respite. 

THE  TEXAS  COWBOY 

And  now,  dear  reader,  this  is  an  excellent  place  in  our 
narrative  to  introduce  you  to  the  real  Texas  cowboy. 

To  see  the  cowboy  in  all  his  glory,  one  must  catch  a 
glimpse  of  him  on  horseback  as  he  gallops  over  the 
prairie.  In  the  saddle  he  is  at  home,  and  the  more  spirit- 
ed the  horse  the  better  pleased  the  rider. 

The  horse  and  rider  seem  one,  like  the  centaur,  so 
much  in  harmony  are  their  motions.  The  broad-brimmed 
hat,  leather  leggins  and  six-shooter  go  to  make  up  the 
uniform  that  distinguishes  him  from  the  rest  of  the 
world.  His  saddle,  bridle  and  lasso  form  the  most  im- 
portant articles  of  his  outfit,  and  are  generally  purchased 
with  a  view  of  display  as  well  as  for  utility.  These 
articles  are  often  worth  more  than  the  pony  that  carries 
them.  With  a  pair  of  blankets  and  an  oil  slicker,  the 
average  cowboy  is  prepared  for  all  kinds  of  weather,  and 
without  a  change  of  clothing  will  be  absent  for  a  month 
on  a  cow  hunt. 

Years  of  practice  makes  the  cowboy  an  expert  rider, 
while  his  open-air  life  and  freedom  from  restraint  give 
him  a  careless  and  reckless  appearance,  often  taken  for 
mere  bravado.  Therefore  those  who  know  him  are  not 
disposed  to  quarrel  with  those  who  judge  the  cowboy 
from  observation,  for  even  Kentuck  was  free  to  confess 
that  in  competition  for  public  favor  he  would  be  handi- 
capped by  his  appearance.  There  was  an  unwritten  law 
in  the  kingdom  where  the  cattle  barons  ruled  forbidding 
the  wearing  of  any  costume  that  carried  the  earmarks  of 
social  or  commercial  life.  And  experience  will  prove  that 
it  is  not  prejudice  but  common  sense  that  dictates  the 


A  GENUINE   COWBOY  275 

cowboy's  costume.  A  two  weeks'  trip  after  cattle  will 
soon  convince  a  man  that  a  flannel  shirt  will  hide  dirt 
and  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  camp  life  much  better 
than  a  white  one,  and  one  night  around  a  camp  fire  will 
convince  him  that  ducking  overalls  are  the  only  protec- 
tion against  grease  and  dirt.  Consequently,  the  cowboys 
adopted  a  costume  in  harmony  with  their  occupation. 

The  large  Mexican  spurs  that  dangle  at  the  cowboy's 
heels  are  a  most  potent  persuader  to  his  jaded  pony,  and 
will  accelerate  his  movements  when  all  hope  of  touch- 
ing his  feelings  with  a  quirt  has  failed.  As  an  orna- 
ment his  spurs  are  sure  to  attract  attention,  and  when 
successfully  manipulated  by  a  full-fledged  cowboy  along 
the  pavement  of  a  city  or  town  are  capable  of  making 
as  much  noise  as  a  hurdy-gurdy  in  full  operation.  Next 
in  importance  to  his  six-shooter,  the  cowboy  considered 
his  spurs  a  necessary  appendage  to  his  equipment,  rarely 
taking  them  off,  even  at  a  dance  or  social  gathering. 

In  the  cowboy's  camp  a  stranger  always  received  a 
hearty  welcome. 

The  proportions  of  his  bed  and  table  were  similar  to 
the  old-fashioned  omnibus  on  the  turnpike  roads — al- 
ways room  for  one  more,  and  a  chance  to  put  your  name 
in  the  pot  that  hung  over  the  fire.  And  though  the  strang- 
er might  not  admire  the  style  of  the  cooking  or  the  clean- 
liness of  the  bed,  he  certainly  must  admire  the  spirit  of 
hospitality  that  proffered  them.  There  was  a  rough, 
cheerful  sincerity  about  the  cowboy's  manner  that  made 
one  feel  at  his  ease  the  moment  he  alighted  from  his 
horse.  And  in  this  connection  let  it  be  known  that  there 
was  observed  in  the  early  days  of  the  Texas  frontier  a 
rule  of  hospitality  as  commendable  as  it  was  convenient. 
Any  one  traveling  across  the  country,  no  matter  whether 
he  be  a  range  man  or  stranger,  was  privileged  to  stop, 


276  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

cook  and  eat  wherever  he  found  a  camp.  The  latch- 
string  hung  on  the  outside  and  the  provisions  were  free 
on  the  inside ;  and  if  it  were  night  a  free  bed  and  break- 
fast in  the  morning.  Every  ranch,  in  fact  even  every  dug- 
out, was  a  free  inn  for  the  hungry  and  weary,  and  a  gen- 
erous welcome  greeted  the  newcomer  at  the  door. 

The  mustang,  broncho  or  cayuse,  depending  on  the 
particular  locality  for  its  name,  was  the  cowboy's  pony, 
a  semi-domesticated  animal  that  lived  on  the  native  mes- 
quite  grass,  and  was  stabled  on  the  prairie  by  hoppling 
him  out  with  a  rawhide  thong.  It  would  be  almost  worth 
a  man's  life  to  touch  him  with  a  currycomb,  and  he  has 
been  known  to  stampede  when  proffered  an  ear  of  corn. 
No  one  except  a  genuine  cowboy  understands  the 
mechanism  of  a  mustang  pony.  You  may  ride  him  all 
day  in  a  gallop,  and  at  night  he  will  look  like  Don 
Quixote's  Rosinante,  and  you  turn  him  out  expecting  to 
attend  his  obsequies  in  the  morning,  but  you  will  find  him 
fresh  and  ready  for  a  journey.  One  of  the  peculiarities 
about  these  ponies  are  their  ungovernable  propensity  to 
buck  you  off  when  you  first  mount  one  in  the  morning. 
This  feat  is  accomplished  by  putting  his  head  between 
his  forelegs  and  jumping  in  a  zig-zag  manner  for  about 
five  minutes,  making  it  difficult  for  even  an  experienced 
rider  to  maintain  his  seat  in  the  saddle.  After  a  pony 
has  performed  this  feat  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  he  is 
ready  for  the  day's  journey.  These  animals  are  of  Span- 
ish origin  and  are  said  to  be  the  direct  descendants  of 
the  Arabian  horses  bred  by  the  Moors.  They  are  noted 
for  their  endurance. 

The  cowboy's  pony  is  an  animal  of  a  marked  degree 
of  intelligence,  easy  to  learn  any  duty  required  of  him, 
and  particularly  adapted  to  herding  and  driving  cattle. 

Free  grass  and  one  common  pasture  made  cattle-rais- 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  277 

ing  exceedingly  profitable  in  those  days.  No  boundary 
lines,  real  or  imaginary,  marked  the  possessions  of  the 
cattle  barons  of  other  days — one  vast  expanse  of  prairie 
country,  covered  with  the  famous  mesquite  grass,  upon 
which  tens  of  thousands  of  head  of  cattle  grazed  at  will, 
bearing  on  their  sleek  sides  the  peculiar  monogram  of 
ownership  representing  the  rights  of  personal  property. 
After  grass  came  up  in  spring,  and  cattle  became  suf- 
ficiently strong  to  be  driven  north  from  the  canyons  and 
brakes  of  the  southern  range,  the  ranchmen  sent  their 
outfits  to  begin  to  drift  them  slowly  back  to  the  home 
range.  As  the  summer  advanced,  a  series  of  round-ups 
were  instituted  to  give  the  cattlemen  the  privilege  of  cut- 
ting out  their  brands,  and  drive  by  easy  stages  under 
close  herd  to  the  next  range,  and  so  on  to  the  home 
ranch.  Early  on  the  day  appointed  for  a  round-up  on  a 
certain  range,  the  cowboys  meet  at  an  appointed  place, 
where  they  are  apportioned  off  in  squads  under  an  ex- 
perienced hand.  Each  squad  gathers  everything  within 
a  certain  scope  of  country  and  drives  them  to  a  common 
center  called  a  round-up  ground.  In  this  way  all  the 
cattle  within  a  range  of  thirty  miles  square  are  bunched 
in  one  large  herd. 

THE  ROUND-UP 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  a  beautiful  valley,  where  the  slop- 
ing hills  on  all  sides  form  a  natural  amphitheater,  and 
the  green  carpet  of  mesquite  grass  dotted  here  and  there 
with  dwarf-looking  trees,  and  the  whole  scene  enhanced 
by  the  blue  sky,  where  the  feathery  white  clouds  float 
in  azure  space.  And  in  the  center  of  this  grand  picture 
painted  by  the  hand  of  nature  can  be  seen  a  great  herd 
of  10,000  head  of  cattle  fenced  in  by  men  on  horseback. 

This  was  Kentuck's  first  view  of  a  general  round-up, 


278  THE  QUIRT  AND   THE   SPUR 

and  he  rode  to  the  top  of  a  knoll  where  he  could  secure 
a  good  view  of  the  scene  below.  A  chorus  of  bellowing 
mixed  with  the  shouts  of  the  cowboys  floated  up  from 
the  valley,  that  made  Kentuck  alive  to  the  scene  before 
him. 

When  everything  was  ready  and  the  cattle  under  the 
control  of  the  herders,  preparations  were  made  to  begin 
cutting  out  the  different  brands  from  the  main  herd  and 
putting  them  in  small  herds  under  the  care  of  the  own- 
ers. This  was  the  acknowledged  right,  exercised  by  each 
owner  in  turn,  until  the  entire  herd  was  cut  and  the  cat- 
tle of  the  same  brand  separated  from  the  other  brands. 
To  perform  this  task  an  expert  hand  from  each  outfit 
was  selected.  He  was  generally  well  mounted  on  a  pony 
trained  especially  for  this  part  of  the  work.  Thus 
mounted  on  his  faithful  pony,  the  cowboy  rode  into  the 
herd  among  the  cattle  and  selected,  one  by  one,  the  cattle 
wearing  the  brand  he  represented.  Riding  behind  each 
animal,  he  would,  by  dexterous  movements  of  his  pony, 
force  it  through  the  packed  herd  to  the  outer  edge  of  the 
herd,  and  with  a  quick  movement  start  the  animal  on  a 
run  for  a  dozen  yards  from  the  main  herd,  when  another 
cowboy  would  ride  up  and  drive  it  to  where  the  cattle  in 
that  brand  were  held  under  guard.  The  expert  hand 
would  again  return  into  the  herd  and  cut  out  another, 
and  so  on  until  all  the  cattle  in  that  brand  had  been  re- 
moved from  the  herd.  While  this  process  was  going  on 
there  was  a  cordon  of  cowboys  formed  around  the  entire 
herd.  One  outfit  after  another  cut  the  herd  until  all  the 
cattle  were  separated  into  small  herds,  each  carrying  the 
brand  of  ownership,  and  to  be  driven  back  to  the  home 
range.  One  or  more  of  the  hands  belonging  to  each  out- 
fit carried  a  long  whip  with  a  short  handle,  which  re- 
quired considerable  experience  to  use.  These  whips  were 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  279 

sometimes  used  in  cutting  out,  but  their  principal  use 
was  driving  stragglers  back  into  the  herd  when  on  the 
trail.  After  the  cattle  had  all  been  separated  they  were 
driven  off  in  different  directions  to  the  branding  pens  at 
each  home  ranch. 

One  glance  back  over  the  scene,  as  Kentuck  and  Texas 
started  homeward,  repaid  them  for  all  the  fatigue  of  the 
day.  The  natural  grandeur  of  the  situation  made  a  last- 
ing impression  on  their  minds.  Toward  all  points  of  the 
compass  the  small  herds  could  be  seen,  wending  their 
way  across  the  prairie,  while  now  and  then  the  distant 
shout  of  the  cowboys  floated  on  the  evening  air.  It  was 
a  wild  scene  with  no  habitation  in  sight,  a  vast  unbroken 
prairie  almost  weird  in  appearance  as  the  shadows 
lengthened  from  the  setting  sun. 

The  animated  scene  of  an  hour  before  was  now  mel- 
lowing into  silence,  more  imposing  by  reason  of  the  re- 
action from  the  exciting  incidents  during  the  day. 

MARKING  AND  BRANDING 

Marking  and  branding  cattle  would  be  very  interest- 
ing to  those  who  never  visited  the  cattle  range,  but  to 
the  ranchman  and  his  cowboys  it  was  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. 

When  the  herd  from  the  round-up  arrived  at  the  home 
ranch  it  was  held  under  loose  herd  near  the  branding 
pen,  and  a  number  that  did  not  overtax  the  capacity  of 
the  pen  were  driven  in  and  lassoed  one  at  a  time,  thrown 
down  on  their  sides,  one  cowboy  holding  down  the  head 
and  another  at  the  animal's  back  holding  its  tail  taut  be- 
tween its  legs,  while  a  third  advanced  with  a  red  hot 
branding  iron  and  burned  the  letters  or  characters  on  its 
side.  As  each  animal  was  released  the  roper  stepped 
into  the  center  of  the  pen  with  his  lasso,  and  swinging 


280  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

the  coil  around  his  head,  approached  the  bunch  of  cattle 
and  started  them  on  a  run  around  the  pen,  and  at  the 
proper  moment  threw  the  open  loop  with  precision  and 
skill,  rarely  ever  missing  the  head  of  the  animal.  This 
was  repeated  over  and  over  again  until  all  the  animals 
carried  the  mark  and  brand  of  the  owner. 

Marking  and  branding  cattle  was  a  laborious  work 
and  sometimes  dangerous,  by  reason  of  the  wild  nature 
of  the  cattle,  some  of  them  as  vicious  as  the  untamed 
herds  in  the  valleys  of  the  Amazon. 

A  mad  cow  whose  fighting  blood  has  been  aroused  is 
a  dangerous  proposition,  as  many  a  cowboy  can  testify 
to  his  sorrow.  This  was  demonstrated  one  day  in  the 
streets  of  Albany,  when  a  stray  that  persisted  in  trying 
to  run  back  into  the  herd  was  finally  lassoed  and  dragged 
some  distance.  When  turned  loose  the  animal  arose 
fighting,  and  charged  down  onto  everything  in  sight.  A 
movement  at  a  door  or  window  was  sufficient  to  incur 
her  wrath.  As  a  matter  of  safety,  the  animal  was  finally 
shot  down  to  prevent  serious  bodily  injury  to  some  of 
the  inhabitants. 

It  was  also  a  dangerous  proposition  to  undertake  to 
wear  red  when  riding  or  walking  on  the  range.  It  vir- 
tually meant  "shaking  a  red  rag  in  a  bull's  face." 

A  STAMPEDE 

For  weeks  the  Reynolds  Brothers  had  been  massing 
a  large  herd  of  stock  cattle,  to  be  driven  to  their  ranch 
in  the  "Bad  Lands"  of  Dakota. 

It  was  to  be  an  experiment  in  removing  Texas  cattle 
to  the  rigorous  climate  north,  to  relieve  the  congested 
conditions  of  their  home  range,  that  had  become  circum- 
scribed by  reason  of  a  system  of  wire  fencing,  intro- 
duced to  divide  the  public  domain  into  small  ranches  and 
farms. 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  281 

The  last  round-up  was  made  on  California  creek,  and 
all  was  in  readiness  to  depart  early  the  next  morning  on 
the  long  drive  across  country  to  the  distant  Dakota. 

The  cattle  had  been  bedded  for  the  night  and  the  tired 
cowboys  gathered  around  the  "chuck"  wagon  for  the 
evening  meal. 

Two  of  the  boys  were  left  on  guard  around  the  herd, 
to  be  relieved  after  the  others  had  satisfied  their  hunger. 

It  was  a  warm,  sultry  evening  in  the  middle  of  August 
The  sun  had  gone  down  in  a  flood  of  glory  and  the  twi- 
light shadows  settled  gently  down  over  the  prairie.  One 
by  one  the  stars  came  forth  and  took  their  place  in  the 
firmament  and  a  peaceful  quiet  soothed  man  and  beast. 

The  two  boys  on  guard  were  singing  in  that  soft,  low 
tone  that  goes  a  long  way  toward  pacifying  cattle  when 
held  under  close  herd.  But  something  happened  to  alarm 
the  cattle.  There  was  a  snort,  followed  by  a  loud  bellow, 
and  in  a  second  the  whole  herd  was  on  its  feet,  bellow- 
ing in  unison  as  they  made  a  mad  rush  for  the  open 
prairie. 

"Say,  pard,  did  you  ever  see  an  onrush  of  frightened 
cattle,  racing  for  dear  life  in  a  frenzied  stampede?  Well, 
it  is  certainly  worth  seeing,  and  if  you  happen  to  be 
in  the  saddle  trying  to  check  the  progress,  you  will  never 
forget  it  so  long  as  you  live,"  said  Luke  McCabe. 

"They  are  off  for  tall  timber,"  said  McCabe  to  his 
companion,  Mart  Gentry,  as  he  drove  his  spurs  into  his 
bronco  and  attempted  to  gain  the  flank  of  the  fright- 
ened herd. 

"All  right,"  said  Gentry,  as  they  raced  down  the  valley. 
"Bear  in  on  the  leaders  and  see  if  we  can't  get  them  to 
milling.  That's  our  only  chance  to  prevent  them  break- 
ing away  and  scattering." 

By  this  time  every  cowboy  in  camp,  led  by  the  "boss," 
Jeffries,  joined  in  the  chase  after  the  runaways. 


282  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

It  did  not  take  long  for  the  wiry  little  ponies  to  come 
abreast  of  the  frenzied  leaders  and  turn  them  in  on  the 
flying  herd.  More  and  more  the  pressure  was  tightened 
until  the  cattle  began  to  run  round  in  a  circle,  and  soon 
formed  in  a  whirling  mass  of  uplifted  heads  and  clashing 
horns,  frantic  with  fear  as  they  whirled  over  the  ground 
like  a  cyclone,  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  dust  that  obscured 
the  whole  scene. 

The  "mill"  had  now  formed  and  all  danger  of  a  run- 
away was  at  an  end,  but  the  bellowing  circle  on  the  out- 
side pressed  closer  and  closer  upon  the  inner  circle  like 
the  winding  of  a  rope  upon  a  reel,  until,  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion, the  herd  became  an  inert  mass  of  smoking, 
steaming  cattle. 

And  now  the  expert  knowledge  of  the  cowboys  was 
displayed  in  the  careful  way  they  went  to  work  to  break 
the  mill. 

Led  by  Phil  Reynolds,  the  boys  rode  slowly  to  the  edge 
of  the  circle,  and,  forming  a  wedge,  started  in  and  grad- 
ually unwound  the  "mill"  by  moving  the  outside  animals 
off  on  a  tangent,  reversing  the  process  that  wound  them 
together,  and  the  great  mass  became  a  peaceful  herd 
once  more. 

Following  a  stampeded  herd  at  night  is  a  position  of 
great  danger.  The  chances  of  being  caught  in  the  "mill," 
are  very  great,  and  to  be  caught  in  the  whirling  mass 
was  almost  sure  death  to  both  horse  and  rider. 

A  dozen  head  of  cattle  were  knocked  down  and 
trampled  to  death  in  this  mad  onrush  of  stampeded  cattle 
that  swept  down  the  valley  of  California  creek  that  starlit 
night  in  August. 

Many  an  old-time  cowboy  now  living  in  comfort  and 
ease,  with  wife  and  children  around  him,  can  recall  the 
exciting  scenes  of  a  stampede  when  he  helped  to  chase 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  283 

the  flying  herd  in  a  whirlwind  of  suffocating  dust  across 
the  open  prairie  far  out  on  the  northwest  range  of  Texas. 
And  he  no  doubt  heaves  a  long  sigh  as  he  remembers. 

OVERLAND  TRAIL 

This  was  the  season  of  the  year  when  from  75,000  to 
100,000  head  of  cattle  from  Southern  Texas  was  driven 
over  the  old  Overland  trail  to  Kansas  and  other  North- 
ern markets,  to  be  sold  or  fed  during  the  coming  winter 
and  then  placed  on  the  spring  market. 

It  was  one  bright  morning  in  the  month  of  June,  1879, 
that  Texas  invited  Kentuck  to  mount  a  pony  and  accom- 
pany him  on  a  ride  along  the  trail  to  Fort  Griffin. 

The  trail  broadened  and  narrowed  in  breadth  accord- 
ing to  the  topographical  features  of  the  ground  and  the 
condition  of  the  grass  by  the  wayside.  The  season  was 
unusually  active,  owing  to  greatly  appreciated  prices  in 
the  Northern  market.  It  was  estimated  that  between 
75,000  and  100,000  would  be  driven  through  before  the 
season  closed. 

When  Texas  and  Kentuck  came  in  sight  of  the  mov- 
ing herds,  clouds  of  dust  stirred  by  thousands  of  hoofs 
hung  in  heavy  festoons  over  the  valley  and  across  the 
broad  prairie,  distinctly  lining  the  course  of  the  trail  until 
it  faded  away  on  the  distant  horizon. 

The  herds  were  composed  of  from  2,000  to  3,000  head 
of  cattle  each,  averaging  about  one  mile  apart,  and  driven 
from  eight  to  ten  miles  a  day,  subsisting  entirely  on  the 
native  mesquite  grass  near  the  line  of  the  trail.  Each 
herd  had  an  outfit  of  from  ten  to  fifteen  men,  twenty- 
five  to  thirty  saddle  ponies  and  a  "chuck"  wagon  presid- 
ed over  by  a  cook  and  his  assistant.  The  cattle  were 
loose  herded  during  the  night  and  started  on  the  trail 
at  9  a.  m.  and  driven  until  5  p.  m. 


284  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  system  of  driving  the  cattle  along  the  trail  is  very 
interesting,  especially  to  a  tenderfoot  who,  for  the  first 
time,  is  permitted  to  watch  the  proceedings.  On  either 
side  of  the  herd  near  the  front  rode  two  cowboys,  called 
the  pointers,  who  kept  the  leaders  on  the  trail  and  shaped 
the  course  of  the  herd.  The  remainder  of  the  boys,  ex- 
cept the  cook  and  his  assistant,  were  busy  keeping  up  the 
stragglers  and  cutting  out  the  strays.  The  cook's  as- 
sistant, known  as  the  wrangler,  kept  the  saddle  ponies 
moving  in  the  wake  of  the  herd,  and  the  cook  brought 
up  the  rear  with  the  "chuck"  wagon.  The  cattle  were 
driven  in  double  column  formation,  like  an  army  corps 
on  the  march,  and  the  cowboys,  riding  up  and  down  the 
line  like  so  many  officers,  presented  a  novel  sight. 

In  this  way  large  bodies  of  cattle  were  driven  over 
the  trail. 

Fort  Griffin  being  the  intermediate  supply  point  on  the 
trail,  each  outfit  camped  for  a  day  and  night  within  easy 
distance  of  the  fort,  to  give  plenty  of  time  for  the  sup- 
plies to  be  loaded  into  the  "chuck"  wagon.  All  the  cow- 
boys not  on  watch  took  advantage  of  the  chance  for  a 
night's  carousal.  And  they  generally  made  the  night 
hideous  with  their  drunken  revelry.  But  the  morning 
after  the  drunk  was  the  critical  time,  when  there  was 
almost  sure  to  be  a  clash  between  these  scapegraces  and 
the  officers.  There  was  a  dare-devil  ambition  among 
these  Southern  cowboys  to  be  able  to  boast  on  their  re- 
turn home  that  they  had  "taken  a  town,"  which,  trans- 
lated into  vigorous  English,  means  that  they  rode  through 
the  streets  to  the  open  prairie,  shooting  right  and  left, 
without  being  captured  by  the  local  officers. 

To  demonstrate  what  these  escapades  were  like,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  relate  one  instance  as  an  illustration  of 
the  many  that  transpired  during  a  season's  drive  up  the 
trail. 


A  GENUINE   COWBOY  285 

It  was  the  day  after  Kenttick  qualified  as  county  at- 
torney that  he  mounted  his  pony  and  rode  over  to  the 
fort  to  see  what  was  on  the  justice's  docket.  When  he 
came  in  sight  of  the  fort  he  saw  a  bunch  of  about  2,000 
head  of  cattle  loose  herded  near  the  trail,  and  the  "chuck" 
wagon  rolling  along  in  front  of  him,  on  its  way  to  the 
town  for  supplies.  From  some  unknown  reason,  Ken- 
tuck  became  conscious  of  a  premonition  of  trouble  be- 
tween this  outfit  and  the  officers.  And  on  the  conviction 
thus  aroused,  he  rode  to  the  justice's  office  and  inquired 
for  Marshal  Dave  Barker.  After  the  usual  greeting, 
Kentuck  said : 

"Dave,  whose  outfit  is  that  loose  herded  in  the  valley 
beyond  Government  hill?" 

"Why,  that's  Gamble's  outfit  that  Marshal  John  Poe 
had  so  much  trouble  with  last  season." 

"Well,  Dave,"  Kentuck  remarked,  "you  had  better 
summon  a  few  of  the  boys  to  assist  you  and  prepare  for 
them  in  the  morning,  for  they  will  try  and  even  up  the 
score  this  time." 

"All  right,  Kentuck;  I'll  make  music  for  them  with  a 
shotgun  loaded  with  buckshot." 

Colonel  Steele's  docket  showed  an  accumulation  of  ten 
cases  to  be  tried  on  complaints  of  gambling,  vagrancy 
and  drunkenness.  After  announcing  that  the  cases 
would  be  taken  up  at  10  a.  m.  on  the  morrow,  the  judge 
adjourned  court  and  Kentuck  repaired  to  the  hotel  to 
clean  up  and  rest. 

The  general  bustle  of  a  very  busy  day  incident  to  the 
outfitting  of  about  500  buffalo  hunters  for  a  season  on 
the  range,  and  filling  orders  for  ranch  supplies,  gave 
Griffin  avenue  the  appearance  of  a  business  mart  in  a 
large  city.  Otherwise  it  was  unusually  quiet  for  the  Flat. 
It  was  true,  as  the  day  neared  the  twilight  hour,  the  cow- 


286  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

boys  belonging  to  the  Gamble  outfit  gave  evidence  of 
being  loaded  with  "booze,"  and  inclined  to  stir  up  a 
racket.  But  it  was  near  the  midnight  hour  before  they 
began  to  make  a  rough  house  in  the  dance  halls.  Ken- 
tuck  was  sleeping  in  the  store-fort,  an  inclosure  made 
with  salt,  meal  and  flour  sacks,  to  form  a  protection  from 
stray  bullets. 

An  occasional  shot  would  be  heard  and  an  imitation 
Indian  warwhoop  down  the  avenue  near  the  old  Adobe 
saloon,  that  announced  the  forming  of  a  procession  to  be- 
gin a  gunshot  serenade.  A  very  few  moments  sufficed 
to  put  this  army  of  hoodlums  in  motion,  and  they  came 
marching  up  the  avenue  firing  their  six-shooters  right 
and  left  with  reckless  disregard  of  both  life  and 
property. 

"Kentuck,  do  you  know  what  that  means?"  asked  his 
companion,  George  Wilhelm. 

"Yes,"  replied  Kentuck;  "it  means  to  lie  low  to-night 
and  view  the  battle  ground  in  the  morning." 

From  that  time  until  daylight  there  was  pandemonium 
in  the  Flat.  Ribald  singing,  mixed  with  warwhoops  and 
boasting  challenges  to  the  officers,  with  pistol  fusillades 
to  emphasize  the  words,  left  no  time  for  sleep. 

The  front  of  the  store  was  constructed  of  plank  only 
one  inch  thick  and  afforded  no  protection  against  "45" 
Colt  bullets.  Consequently,  it  was  full  of  splintered  holes 
the  next  morning. 

It  was  about  8  a.  m.  when  the  Gamble  outfit  saddled 
up  their  bronchos  in  Hank  Smith's  wagon  yard  and 
rode  out  in  front  of  the  Beehive  saloon  for  a  farewell 
drink  before  going  out  to  the  herd.  The  negro  cook  of 
the  outfit,  "fat  and  sassy,"  weighing  about  200  pounds, 
came  in  early  to  notify  the  boys  that  the  herd  was  ready 
to  move  up  the  trail. 


A  GENUINE   COWBOY  287 

Marshal  Barker  and  three  citizens,  heavily  armed,  an- 
ticipating trouble,  and  fearing  that  the  cowboys  would 
make  a  run  and  shoot  as  they  rode  out  of  town,  con- 
cealed themselves  in  the  mesquites  at  the  foot  of  the 
avenue  near  the  river. 

About  twenty  yards  before  the  trail  dipped  into  the 
depression  where  the  marshal's  posse  were  concealed,  a 
bridle  path  turned  to  the  right  through  the  mesquites  and 
led  to  a  shallow  crossing  about  300  yards  above  the  main 
crossing. 

As  the  marshal  anticipated,  the  Gamble  outfit,  after 
cinching  up  their  bronc's,  mounted,  pulled  their  guns  and 
began  a  mad  race  down  the  avenue,  quirting  their  ponies 
to  full  speed,  shooting  and  yelling  as  they  passed  along. 
The  negro  cook,  on  a  poor  mount,  could  not  keep  the 
pace  set  by  the  other  cowboys,  and  by  the  time  they  ar- 
rived in  the  vicinity  of  the  marshal's  posse,  the  negro 
lost  sight  of  his  companions  in  the  mesquites. 

Whether  the  cowboys  caught  sight  of  the  marshal  and 
his  men,  or  had  been  previously  warned,  certain  it  is 
that  they  made  a  detour  on  the  bridle  path,  dodging  the 
marshal  and  crossing  at  the  upper  ford. 

The  negro  cook  was  not  so  fortunate,  but,  acting  on 
the  supposition  that  the  cowboys  were  following  the 
main  trail,  he  ran  into  the  marshal's  posse  and  was  or- 
dered to  surrender.  But,  instead  of  doing  so,  he  pulled 
his  pistol  and  began  to  shoot.  Then  there  began  an  ex- 
citing battle,  the  negro  retreating  and  the  officers  follow- 
ing, both  sides  exchanging  shots  as  they  came  back  up 
Griffin  avenue,  the  negro  managing  to  reload  as  often 
as  his  pistol  was  empty,  notwithstanding  he  was  wound- 
ed in  a  half-dozen  places.  Finally,  his  pony  was  killed, 
and  he  crawled  behind  it,  using  the  animal's  body  as  a 
breastwork. 


288  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

He  kept  up  the  fight  until  Ed.  Forrest,  one  of  the  mar- 
shal's posse,  emptied  a  load  of  buckshot  into  him  and, 
though  wounded  eleven  times,  he  was  still  breathing  and 
conscious.  Only  one  of  the  marshal's  posse,  John  Ham- 
mond, received  a  flesh  wound.  The  negro  gave  his  name 
as  Dick  Bell  and  was  turned  over  to  a  negro  family  to 
care  for,  with  the  prediction  that  he  would  die  before 
morning,  but,  strange  to  relate,  he  lingered  along  for  two 
weeks  and  recovered  sufficiently  to  escape. 

This  was  but  one  of  the  many  encounters  between  the 
officers  and  the  South  Texas  cowboys. 

Notwithstanding  the  preliminary  organization  of  the 
Cattle  Raisers'  association  in  the  year  1876,  at  Graham, 
in  Young  county,  by  S.  B.  Burnett,  D.  B.  Gardner, 
Dan  Waggoner,  Tom  Waggoner,  J.  C.  Loving,  D.  W. 
Goodwin,  John  N.  Simpson,  C.  L.  Carter,  W.  B.  Slaugh- 
ter, W.  B.  Worsham,  E.  B.  Harold  and  others,  the  real 
organization  was  perfected  at  Fort  Griffin  in  the  fall  of 
1877.  From  Palo  Pinto  and  Jack  on  the  east  to  the  bor- 
der of  New  Mexico  on  the  west  the  ranchmen,  range 
bosses  and  cowboys  were  present;  not  so  much  because 
there  was  an  association  to  be  organized,  but  because  it 
afforded  a  rare  opportunity  for  old  chums  to  fraternize. 

Consequently,  for  several  days  before  the  time  set  for 
the  convention  the  numbers  grew  and  multiplied  until 
there  were  about  5,000  swarming  Griffin  avenue  in  the 
flat,  on  opening  day.  And  the  word  cosmopolitan  but 
poorly  expresses  the  nature  of  the  conglomerate  mixture 
of  nationality  and  kindred  tongues,  of  that  great  throng 
as  it  moved  up  and  down  the  rows  of  saloons  and  res- 
taurants like  a  herd  of  wild  steers  in  a  small  corral. 

Hotels,  restaurants,  saloons,  stores  and  wagon-yards 
did  a  thriving  business  and  were  crowded  beyond  their  ca- 
pacity, and  any  old  place  was  good  enough  if  it  afforded 
room  to  spread  a  pair  of  blankets. 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  289 

Nothing  like  this  convention  had  ever  been  conceived, 
much  less  actually  announced  to  take  place  on  the  fron- 
tier. And  it  had  been  looked  forward  to  somewhat 
in  the  spirit  that  takes  possession  of  children  as  they 
anticipate  the  coming  of  Christmas.  Hundreds  of  miles 
had  been  traveled  and  hundreds  of  dollars  saved  up  for 
the  occasion.  And  now  there  was  to  be  a  glorious  real- 
ization of  their  fondest  anticipations,  and  an  event  to  look 
back  to  for  many  years  to  come. 

No  statesman  or  lawyer  had  planned  the  formation  of 
an  association.  It  was  to  be  a  convention  of,  by  and  for 
the  cattlemen  of  Northwest  Texas,  growing  out  of  the 
conditions  on  the  range  that  demanded  cooperation  of 
mutual  interests.  Therefore,  it  commanded  the  presence 
of  delegates  from  all  the  ranches  within  500  miles. 

But  it  is  not  with  the  business  end  of  this  convention, 
but  of  the  incidents  concomitant  thereof,  that  commands 
our  attention. 

'Tis  the  escapades  of  cowboy  life  under  high  pressure 
that  are  worthy  of  note  on  this  occasion.  For  if  the 
innate  cussedness  aroused  by  one  cowboy  full  of 
bad  whisky  could  set  a  town  by  the  ears,  how  much 
more  to  encounter  them  by  the  hundreds? 

There  was  Bland  and  Peeler  from  the  Millet  ranch, 
Hemphill  and  Biggs  from  the  Jim  Reed  ranch,  Tucker 
and  Batts  from  the  Lynch  ranch,  Gentry  and  Jeffrys 
from  the  Matthews  ranch,  Glen  and  Phil  Reynolds  from 
the  Reynolds  Brothers  ranch,  Jim  and  Cal  Greer  from 
the  Greer's  ranch,  and  space  forbids  the  mention  of  sev- 
eral hundred  more  cowboys  from  outlying  ranches  who 
were  not  delegates. 

These  boys  were  there  to  have  the  time  of  their  lives, 
while  the  bosses  attended  to  business,  and  a  rip-rousing 
old  time  they  had,  too. 

19 


290  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

Everything  was  wide  open  and  the  whisky  tanks  full. 
If  you  didn't  waltz  up  to  the  counter  and  chalk  your  name 
down  for  a  drink  of  your  favorite  brand,  it  was  your  own 
fault  and  there  was  no  kick  coming. 

Sheriff  Green  Simpson  and  his  deputies,  Henry  Her- 
ron  and  Marshal  Dave  Barker,  were  on  hand  'tis  true, 
but  unless  a  fellow  became  too  reckless  with  his  shoot- 
ing-irons, they  never  interfered  with  the  festivities. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  of  the  first  day.  The  con- 
vention had  adjourned,  after  electing  Kit  Carter,  presi- 
dent and  Jim  Loving,  secretary  and  treasurer.  The 
crowds  surged  around  the  hotels  and  restaurants,  where 
the  fumes  of  baked  meat  and  coffee  sent  forth  tempting 
odors.  Many  were  already  in  that  mellow  state  that 
comes  from  imbibing  too  much.  Consequently,  the  con- 
versation was  hilarious  and  more  forcible  than  elegant. 

As  darkness  approached  the  whole  avenue  burst  forth 
in  a  flood  of  light  from  the  open  windows  and  doors. 

The  time  for  merry-making  had  come.  And  the  boys 
who  knew  how  to  make  merry  were  on  hand  to  see  that 
the  fun  was  fast  and  furious. 

It  was  well  enough  to  eat  baked  beef  and  drink  coffee 
as  a  necessity,  but  throats  used  to  alkali  dust  and  gip 
water  craved  the  cheering  spirits  sold  over  the  bars — 
"Drink'r  down,  boys;  drink'r  down." 

One  by  one  the  older  and  wiser  heads  became  dizzy 
and  drowsy  and  they  rolled  up  in  their  blankets.  But  not 
so  with  those  wild  and  reckless  cusses  from  "Bitter 
creek."  Their  blood  was  warm  and  heads  hot,  and  the 
devil  spurred  them  on  to  all  kinds  of  mischief.  A  grand 
rush  was  made  for  the  dance  halls,  and  the  atmosphere 
soon  became  charged  with  tobacco  smoke  and  fumes  of 
whisky. 

As  the  night  advanced  the  spirit  of  recklessness  grew, 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  291 

and  men  dared  to  do  those  things  that  in  their  saner  mo- 
ments would  have  been  called  foolhardy. 

The  front  room  of  the  old  Adobe  saloon  was  crowded 
to  suffocation  when  Zeno  Hemphill  jumped  upon  the 
counter  and  dared  Peeler  to  help  "shoot  the  lights  out." 
And  the  fusillade  that  followed  soon  "doused  the  glims." 
Considerable  confusion  followed  in  the  dark,  and  several 
were  slightly  wounded  by  stray  bullets.  But  by  the  time 
Jack  Casey  and  Mike  O'Brien,  the  proprietors,  had  pro- 
cured new  lamps,  the  crowd  had  surged  into  the  street 
on  their  way  to  Dick  Jones'  saloon,  shooting  right  and 
left  as  they  advanced  up  the  avenue. 

And  so  the  night  wore  away,  and  the  morning's  sun 
peeped  o'er  the  eastern  brakes  and  shot  a  shaft  of  light 
along  Griffin  avenue,  revealing  bunches  of  cowboys 
sleeping  off  their  stupor  under  the  awnings  in  front  of 
the  business  houses. 

The  second  day  was  full  of  stirring  incidents  that  at 
times  almost  amounted  to  a  riot. 

One  of  the  most  exciting  events  was  between  a  local 
sport  named  Mike  Harrity  and  Zeno  Hemphill,  relative 
to  whether  a  "bronco  buster"  could  ride  a  three-year-old 
steer  as  easily  as  an  unbroken  mustang. 

Zeno  claimed  he  could  ride  anything  that  wore  hair. 
Mike  bet  him  $50  that  he  could  not  ride  a  steer.  The 
money  was  put  up  in  Harve  Biggs'  hands  and  two  men 
were  sent  out  to  bring  in  a  bunch  of  cattle  from  which 
to  select  the  animal.  They  were  gone  about  an  hour  and 
reported  a  bunch  in  T.  E.  Jackson's  corral. 

Bill  Hitson  and  Jim  Reed  were  selected  as  a  commit- 
tee to  pick  out  the  steer.  The  crowd  repaired  to  the  cor- 
ral and  the  committee  selected  a  large  brindle  three  years 
old.  Two  of  the  boys  roped  him,  turned  the  balance  of 
the  bunch  loose,  and  led  the  wild,  cavorting  bovine  out 


292  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

in  the  open  prairie,  threw  him  down,  tied  and  blindfold- 
ed him  and  a  saddle  was  cinched  on  his  back  when  he 
arose  to  his  feet.  Blindfolding  always  had  the  effect  of 
keeping  an  animal  quiet  until  it  could  be  saddled  and 
bridled.  And  this  proved  no  exception,  for  the  steer 
stood  and  trembled  until  the  saddle  was  fastened.  The 
lassoes  were  removed,  and  two  boys  held  him  by  the 
horns  and  nose  until  Zeno  mounted,  then  jerking  the 
blinds  off  turned  him  loose. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  man  attempt  to  ride  a  wild,  un- 
tamed steer?  No?  Then  you  can  have  no  conception 
of  the  real  performance.  ,  . 

Wild-eyed,  snorting  and  bellowing  at  every  jump,  that 
untamed  steer  pitched  stiff-legged  down  the  trail,  hump- 
ing and  hunching  his  back  until  the  saddle  slid  back  to 
his  hips  while  Zeno  was  holding  on  to  the  horns  for  dear 
life.  Finally  the  saddle  worked  back  over  his  tail  and 
went  rolling  with  Zeno  into  the  dust. 

Both  Zeno  and  Harrity  claimed  the  stakes,  and  a  first- 
class  shooting  bee  came  near  being  pulled  off.  But 
friends  surrounded  the  angry  combatants,  and  a  com- 
promise was  agreed  to,  giving  Zeno  half  of  the  stakes. 

The  evening  and  the  night  following  was  a  repetition* 
of  the  day  and  night  before,  except  the  arrest  of  Hemp- 
hill,  which  came  near  bringing  on  a  bloody  conflict  be- 
tween the  cowboys  and  the  officers. 

Hemphill  was  making  a  rough  house  in  Dick  Jones' 
saloon,  and  it  was  reported  to  the  officers  that  a  pre- 
concerted movement  was  on  foot  to  start  a  row  and  kill 
the  officers  in  the  conflict.  The  plan  unfolded  to  the 
sheriff  was,  that  Zeno  would  start  a  rough  house,  and 
when  the  officers  came  the  Millet  outfit,  led  by  Peeler, 
would  do  the  rest. 

Zeno  performed  his  stunt  all  right,  but  the  two  depu- 


Shooting  the  Lights  Out.     (Page  291.) 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  295 

ties  nabbed  him  before  the  Millet  outfit  could  come  to 
his  rescue,  though  he  fought  like  a  savage,  and  the  depu- 
ties were  compelled  to  knock  him  down  several  times 
with  their  six-shooters  before  they  could  drag  him  to  the 
calaboose.  In  the  meantime  Peeler  called  his  men  and  they 
came  running  after  the  officers  with  their  pistols  in  their 
hands.  The  deputies,  joined  by  the  sheriff,  arrived  at 
the  calaboose  just  in  time  to  throw  Zeno  inside  and  face 
the  mob.  Pointing  their  six-shooters  at  the  men  the  of- 
ficers prepared  to  give  them  battle,  but  Captain  Millet 
came  up  and  ordered  Peeler  to  desist. 

HORRIFYING  EXPERIENCE  OF  JAMES  A.  BROCK 

James  A.  Brock  was  head  clerk  in  the  post  trader's 
store,  within  the  military  reservation  on  the  hill  over- 
looking the  Flat.  A  man  named  Hickey  obtained  the 
concession  from  the  commander  of  the  post  to  run  the 
store.  It  was  a  semi-military  institution,  patronized  by 
soldiers  and  civilians  alike.  A  "canteen"  was  run  in  con- 
nection with  the  establishment,  furnishing  amusement 
and  drinks  to  the  customers.  Ranchmen  and  buffalo 
hunters  bought  supplies  from  this  store,  and  it  became 
a  very  live  business  place. 

Young  Brock  was  paid  a  good  salary,  and  conceived 
the  idea  of  starting  a  ranch  on  Foyle  creek,  about  six 
miles  west  of  the  fort.  Energetic  and  determined  in  the 
execution  of  his  plans,  he  hired  an  old  negro  by  the  name 
of  Nick  Williams  to  build  a  cabin  and  make  the  neces- 
sary improvements  to  comply  with  the  State  law  govern- 
ing the  taking  up  of  land  by  the  actual  settler.  Nick 
proved  to  be  a  faithful  hired  man,  and  soon  transformed 
the  little  valley  into  a  model  ranch. 

Brock  often  visited  the  ranch  and  remained  over  night 
to  perfect  plans  with  Nick,  who,  under  instructions,  hired 


296  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

two  more  negro  men  to  assist  him.  Brock  then  began  to 
purchase  a  few  head  of  stock  cattle  from  time  to  time, 
and  started  the  J-A-B  brand.  By  the  strictest  economy 
and  sharp  trading  his  ranch  flourished  and  showed  signs 
of  prosperity. 

Not  content  with  plodding  along  waiting  for  the  nat- 
ural increase  in  the  old  beaten  track  with  his  longhorns, 
Brock  sent  an  order  back  to  his  old  home  at  Oberlin, 
Ohio,  for  a  dozen  shorthorn  Durham  cows  and  two 
registered  bulls ;  and  to  make  sure  that  they  would  be 
well  cared  for  en  route,  he  requested  his  cousin,  Frank 
Lassiter,  to  travel  with  them  to  Dallas,  the  terminal  of 
the  road,  then  drive  them  through  by  easy  stages  to  Foyle 
creek. 

Nick  and  one  of  the  negro  men  took  a  wagon  loaded 
with  supplies  and  met  Lassiter  at  Dallas,  the  nearest  rail- 
road point.  In  due  time  the  outfit  arrived  at  the  Foyle 
creek  ranch  with  the  shorthorns. 

And  from  that  moment  the  troubles  of  James  A.  Brock 
began,  that  came  near  sacrificing  his  life  to  the  vengeance 
of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  and  resulted  in  the  loss  of 
all  his  money  and  property,  besides  causing  him  to  spend 
years  wandering  in  search  of  the  author  of  his  misery. 

Through  the  generous  offer  of  a  half  interest  in  the 
cattle  and  the  ranch,  Brock  induced  his  cousin,  Frank 
Lassiter,  to  remain  and  take  charge  of  the  property,  and 
Brock  agreed  to  pay  Nick's  salary  and  share  the  expenses 
of  keeping  up  the  ranch  and  improving  the  cattle. 

Everything  moved  along  smoothly  until  the  time  came 
to  attend  the  fall  round-ups.  There  were  only  a  small 
number  of  the  Brock  cattle  on  the  range,  and  Frank 
Lassiter  attended  the  round-ups  alone,  leading  a  pack- 
horse  and  carrying  his  blankets  and  the  necessary  "grub" 
from  place  to  place. 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  297 

One  morning  Lassiter  left  the  ranch  on  Foyle  creek 
and  struck  out  across  the  prairie  in  the  direction  of  Fort 
Phantom  Hill,  to  attend  a  round-up  at  Mode  Johnson's 
ranch.  That  was  the  last  time  he  was  seen  for  a  period 
of  five  years.  The  next  evening  old  Nick  discovered  the 
pack-horse  grazing  on  the  home  range.  For  several 
days  a  searching  party  rode  the  prairie  looking  for 
traces  of  Lassiter,  but  nothing  was  discovered  to  throw 
any  light  on  the  mystery. 

In  the  meantime  enemies  of  Brock  were  busy  circulat- 
ing a  rumor  of  foul  play,  reporting  a  conspiracy  between 
Brock  and  Nick  to  kill  Lassiter  and  secure  all  the  prop- 
erty. The  continued  absence  of  Lassiter  gave  credence 
to  this  rumor,  and  Brock  and  Nick  were  arrested  and 
held  on  suspicion.  Hot-heads  among  the  Vigilantes  were 
determined  to  hang  them  at  once,  but  the  more  conserva- 
tive members  counseled  to  wait  until  the  remains  of  Las- 
siter were  found,  or  at  least  some  evidence  of  foul  play, 
arguing  that  it  would  be  a  dangerous  precedent  to  hang 
the  prisoners  without  proof  of  their  guilt. 

During  the  incarceration  of  Brock  and  Nick,  communi- 
cation was  opened  with  Brock's  relatives  in  Ohio.  Frank 
Lassiter's  brother  Ed  and  wife  came  to  Texas  and  took 
possession  of  the  Foyle  creek  ranch,  and  began  to  aid 
the  enemies  of  Brock  to  push  the  prosecutions,  going  so 
far  as  to  aid  them  to  take  old  Nick  away  from  the  guards 
and  swing  him  to  a  tree  three  times,  in  an  effort  to  make 
him  fasten  the  guilt  upon  Brock  and  save  himself.  But 
the  faithful  old  negro  refused  to  lie. 

Knowing  the  desperate  efforts  being  made  to  destroy 
him,  Brock  communicated  with  his  father  and  secured 
the  services  of  an  eminent  lawyer,  who,  in  company  with 
Brock's  brother,  came  to  Albany  to  defend  him.  As  soon 
as  the  lawyer  arrived  he  sued  out  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus 


298  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

and  Brock  and  Nick  were  released  on  $5,000  and  $3,000 
bail. 

As  soon  as  they  were  released,  Brock,  who  became 
convinced  during  his  incarceration  that  it  was  a  conspiracy 
hatched  up  by  the  Lassiters  to  swindle  him  out  of  his 
property,  hired  a  detective  and  began  to  search  for  Frank 
Lassiter  who  he  believed  was  alive  and  in  hiding. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  remarkable  in- 
cidents, covering  a  period  of  five  years,  wherein  James 
A.  Brock  persistently  carried  on  a  systematic  search  for 
Frank  Lassiter.  When  he  exhausted  his  money  sending 
out  descriptions  and  photographs,  paying  detectives  and 
other  necessary  expenses,  he  would  go  to  work  and  save 
his  means  until  he  secured  sufficient  funds  to  enable  him 
to  once  more  start  on  the  trail  of  the  missing  man.  The 
grand  jury  failed  to  secure  any  evidence  to  indict  Brock, 
but  this  did  not  influence  him  in  prosecuting  his  search. 

Brock  traced  one  clue  after  another,  only  to  be  disap- 
pointed. 

After  the  first  twelve  months  people  lost  interest  in 
the  mystery,  and  many  believed  Brock  was  losing  his 
mind  through  continually  brooding  over  the  affair.  But 
he  never  gave  up  the  search,  following  clue  after  clue 
into  the  Indian  Territory,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona,  re- 
turning to  Texas ;  then  into  Arkansas,  where  a  man  an- 
swering the  description  of  Lassiter  was  located  at  the 
town  of  Bentonville ;  and,  notwithstanding  he  wore  a  full 
beard  and  was  otherwise  changed,  Brock  recognized  him. 

Lassiter  was  living  under  the  assumed  name  of  Lay- 
cock,  and  had  lived  in  Bentonville  for  three  years  prior 
to  his  discovery  by  Brock.  He  had  learned  the  pottery 
business,  married  the  widow  of  the  proprietor,  and  was 
carrying  on  the  business. 

When  confronted  by  Brock,  Lassiter  denied  his  iden- 
tity. 


A  GENUINE  COWBOY  299 

"Frank  Lassiter,  I  know  you,"  said  Brock.  "For  some 
reason  you  disappeared  from  the  ranch  on  Foyle  creek, 
leaving  the  impression  that  you  were  murdered.  Some 
one  in  your  interest  cast  suspicion  on  me,  and  I  came 
near  being  hanged  without  judge  or  jury  by  the  Vigi- 
lantes. If  it  had  not  been  for  Uncle  Joe  Matthews  and 
Judge  J.  C.  Lynch,  I  and  that  faithful  old  negro,  Nick, 
would  have  swung  into  eternity.  Subsequent  events  led 
me  to  believe  that  it  was  a  conspiracy  between  you  and 
Ed  to  deprive  me  of  life  and  property.  You  had  neither 
respect  for  our  relationship  or  gratitude  for  my  gener- 
osity for  giving  you  a  partnership  interest  in  the  ranch." 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir  my  name  is  not  Lassiter,"  said 
the  assumed  Mr.  Laycock.  "I  never  saw  you  before." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  know  me,  Frank  Lassiter,  and  I  am  go- 
ing to  take  you  back  to  Ohio  and  have  you  identified. 
Officer,"  turning  to  the  detective,  "lift  his  hat  and  you 
will  find  an  ell-shaped  scar  over  his  right  eye  near  the 
hair." 

The  officer  lifted  the  hat,  revealing  the  scar,  as  de- 
scribed. 

"Now,  Lassiter,"  said  Brock,  "if  you  don't  want  a 
scene  in  the  presence  of  your  wife,  Detective  Ward  will 
accompany  you  to  the  house  while  you  pack  up  a  grip 
and  make  any  excuse  you  care  to  for  your  absence  for 
the  next  week  or  ten  days." 

During  their  absence  in  Lassiter's  residence,  Brock 
sauntered  through  the  pottery,  where,  from  appearance, 
Lassiter  was  doing  a  prosperous  business. 

When  they  returned  the  three  went  to  the  depot  in  time 
to  catch  a  northbound  train. 

When  seated  in  the  smoking  room  of  the  sleeper, 
Lassiter  looked  at  Brock  a  few  minutes,  as  if  debating  a 
problem  in  his  mind. 


300  THE  QUIRT   AND   THE  SPUR 

"Brock,  there  is  no  use  longer  denying  my  name.  I 
will  be  recognized  by  the  people  in  Oberlin  when  we  ar- 
rive. Now,  I  have  a  remarkable  story  to  tell  you;  be- 
lieve it  or  not,  as  you  please.  But,  strange  as  it  may 
sound  to  you,  it  is  nevertheless  true. 

"When  I  left  the  ranch  on  Foyle  creek,  five  years  ago, 
with  the  pack  horse,  bound  for  Mode  Johnson's  ranch, 
I  never  dreamed  of  going  away  and  leaving  things  in  a 
muddle.  But,  while  descending  the  rocky  trail  leading 
to  Salt  Creek  valley,  my  horse  stumbled,  throwing  me 
over  his  head.  I  fell  head  foremost  into  a  pile  of  rocks 
and  was  knocked  senseless ;  must  have  sustained  a  frac- 
ture of  my  skull,  for  I  awoke  in  a  dazed  condition,  with- 
out any  knowledge  of  my  surroundings  or  who  I  was. 
In  this  condition  I  managed  to  crawl  upon  my  horse  and 
lapsed  into  a  semi-conscious  condition.  As  you  well 
know,  the  horse  that  I  was  riding  was  purchased  from 
a  cow  puncher  returning  from  Kansas,  who  traded  for 
the  animal  at  Venita  in  the  territory.  I  suppose  that 
accounts  for  the  direction  he  traveled  with  me. 

"From  that  time  on,  for  two  years,  I  lost  all  remem- 
brance of  my  past  life.  I  could  neither  tell  my  name  or 
where  I  had  lived. 

"The  same  evening  of  the  accident  my  horse  stopped 
in  front  of  a  ranch  house,  and  I  indistinctly  remember 
eating  supper,  staying  all  night  and  leaving  after  break- 
fast the  next  morning.  But  whose  ranch  and  where  it 
was  I  have  no  idea.  In  this  manner,  from  day  to  day,  the 
horse  made  his  way  to  his  old  range  in  the  territory. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  drifted  to  the  coal  mines  at  Mc- 
Allister, but  I  labored  at  the  coal  screens  six  months, 
answering  to  the  name  of  Laycock,  because  some  of  the 
miners  said  I  looked  like  a  brother  of  a  man  by  that  name 
who  was  killed  before  I  arrived.  Then  I  have  no  recol- 


A  GENUINE   COWBOY  301 

lection  of  my  wanderings  until  I  arrived  in  Bentonville. 
I  remember  one  morning  of  applying  for  work,  and  be- 
gan driving  a  horse  to  a  mud  mill.  About  this  time  my 
mind  began  to  clear,  but  I  was  still  unable  to  recall  the 
past.  I  began  to  take  an  interest  in  my  occupation,  and 
extended  my  observations  to  other  parts  of  the  pottery 
business.  And  when  a  better  place  became  vacant,  I  ap- 
plied and  was  promoted  along  the  line  until  I  became  the 
manager.  A  few  months  later,  Mr.  Watkins,  the  pro- 
prietor, died.  His  widow  insisted  on  me  taking  entire 
control  of  the  plant.  Our  business  relations  ripened  into 
affection  and  we  were  married  after  the  expiration  of 
twelve  months.  I  never  suspected  that  I  was  Frank 
Lassiter  until  I  saw  my  portrait  in  the  papers  and  read 
the  description.  Then,  not  knowing  what  I  was  accused 
of  and  how  serious  the  consequences  might  be,  I  was 
afraid  to  communicate  with  you.  Now,  Brock,  this  is 
the  truth,  so  help  me  God." 

"Well,  I  believe  you,  Frank,"  said  Brock,  "and  if  you 
will  go  to  Oberlin  and  be  identified,  so  that  my  name  can 
be  cleared  from  all  suspicion,  I  am  not  inclined  to  prose- 
cute you,  notwithstanding  all  the  humiliation  and  money 
it  has  cost  me." 

"I  agree  to  do  so,"  said  Lassiter,  "because  it  is  only 
justice  to  you.  And  if  I  had  possessed  the  moral  courage 
to  have  faced  exposure  and  prosecution,  you  would  have 
been  vindicated  long  ago.  I  never  had  any  communica- 
tion with  Ed,  consequently  had  no  knowledge  of  the  part 
he  played  in  the  game." 

"Well,"  replied  Brock,  "I  suppose  he  saw  a  chance  to 
secure  the  ranch." 

"What  became  of  Ed?" 

"He  died  on  the  ranch  and  his  wife  shipped  his  remains 
back  to  Ohio." 


302  THE   QUIRT   AND   THE   SPUR 

When  the  trio  arrived  at  Oberlin,  Frank  Lassiter  was 
identified  by  his  relatives  and  all  his  old  associates,  com- 
pletely vindicating  James  A.  Brock.  After  a  few  days, 
during  the  time  they  remained,  Lassiter  made  amends  by 
deeding  back  to  Brock  all  of  his  interest  in  the  Foyle 
creek  ranch,  then  returned  to  his  home  in  Bentonville. 

Brock  was  congratulated  and  returned  to  Texas  with 
Lassiter's  confession  and  the  affidavits  of  identification 
signed  by  the  county  officials  and  prominent  citizens,  as 
proof  of  his  innocence. 

After  disposing  of  the  Foyle  creek  ranch,  he  settled 
in  El  Paso,  where  he  engaged  in  the  real  estate  business 
and  prospered. 

Old  Nick  was  not  forgotten,  and  was  substantially  re- 
warded by  Brock,  and  found  employment  with  a  large 
ranch  owner. 

And  thus  ended  one  of  the  most  peculiar  chains  of  cir- 
cumstances that  ever  threatened  the  life  of  an  early  set- 
tler on  the  frontier. 

Kentuck  was  one  of  the  few  who  always  believed  in 
Brock's  innocence  during  the  darkest  hours  of  his  perse- 
cution, and  assisted  him  in  every  way  possible  to  trace 
the  missing  Lassiter. 


CHAPTER   XI 


INDIAN  BfATTLES  ON  THE  FRONTIER 

With  gun,  and  steel,  and  flaming  torch,  and  blood-curdling  yell ; 
White  men  and  Red  men,  in  deadly  conflict  met,  fought  and  fell. 

The  writer  makes  no  claim  that  the  incidents  under 
this  head  have  historic  value,  but  they  are  nevertheless 
based  upon  facts  related  by  trustworthy  people,  who 
took  an  active  part  in  the  events,  or  were  contempora- 
neous neighbors  with  those  who  did. 

Kentuck,  with  a  propensity  for  delving  into  the  past, 
found  ample  opportunity  listening  to  the  old  settlers 
whenever  they  assembled  for  business  or  pleasure. 

These  old  veteran  frontiersmen  during  their  leisure 
moments  related  many  exciting  events  that  have  never 
been  published  in  song  or  story  by  fiction  writers. 

But  it  would  require  several  volumes  larger  than  this 
to  contain  the  facts  relative  to  the  almost  continuous  war- 
fare between  the  settlers  and  the  Indians. 

One  of  the  strange  characteristics  of  the  Comanches, 
Apaches,  Kiowas  and  other  Indians  that  lived  on  the 
plains  was  that  their  raids  were  confined  to  daylight  or 
moonlight  operations,  when  they  could  see  as  well  as  be 
seen  by  the  settlers.  And  even  then  they  refused  to  fol- 
low the  retreating  whites  into  a  thicket  or  grove,  fearing 
an  ambuscade.  Many  a  fleeing  pioneer  owed  his  life  to 
the  friendly  shelter  of  the  underbrush  along  the  margin 
of  a  stream,  or  the  thickets  among  the  mountain  breaks. 

303 


304  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

This  was  so  well  understood  by  the  early  settlers  that 
their  houses  were  built  in  close  proximity  to  the  rough 
breaks  and  mountain  streams  that  afforded  excellent  pro- 
tection in  a  raid. 

And  now,  reader,  from  a  series  of  notes  compiled  by 
Kentuck  during  those  days,  and  from  the  best  data  and 
information  obtained  from  all  sources  at  his  command, 
the  writer  of  this  volume  will  attempt  fo  set  before  you 
in  brief  a  series  of  battles,  raids  and  thrilling  events 
in  the  history  of  Northwest  Texas. 

Due  credit  is  given  to  other  writers,  who  were  fortunate 
to  secure  better  data  than  the  writer  could,  of  the  great 
battles  of  Antelope  hills  and  the  Adobe  Walls,  describing 
heroism  of  individuals  who  participated  in  those  conflicts. 
But  at  the  same  time  the  writer  will  interpolate  whenever 
he  finds  omissions  or  irregularities  in  the  recitals  that 
can  be  amended  and  give  a  more  satisfactory  retrospect. 

JOE  LOVING  AND  JIM  SCOTT'S  FIGHT  WITH 
THE  COMANCHES 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  every  story  told  around 
the  camp  fire  had  its  foundation  laid  in  facts,  but  time, 
the  great  magnifier,  and  the  propensity  for  hero  worship, 
always  exaggerates  the  prowess  of  men  who  take  part  in 
the  exciting  dramas  that  are  enacted  on  the  frontier,  to 
the  extent  of  painting  graphic  pictures  in  melodramatic 
colors. 

Therefore,  it  will  be  more  interesting  reading  to  give 
the  story-teller  license  for  his  emotions  and  allowance 
for  supplying  the  missing  links  in  the  chain  of  circum- 
stances that  he  has  forgotten.  Especially  when  he  tells 
the  oft  repeated  story  of  Indian  forays,  the  temptation 
to  enlarge  must  be  forgiven. 

With  this  understanding  the  writer  submits  the  stories 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      3Q5 

that  Kentuck  heard  in  the  cow  camps  and  around  the 
firesides  of  the  settlers. 

During  the  long  winter  evenings  the  bunk  house  where 
the  cow  punchers  lounged  away  the  dull  hours  was  nat- 
urally the  place  where  one  could  hear  the  hair-raising 
stories  of  Indian  raids. 

Cal  Greer  crossed  the  Staked  plains  with  a  herd  in 
the  summer  of  1869,  following  closely  the  trail  made  by 
Joe  Loving  and  Charles  Goodnight  the  previous  season, 
when  they  were  under  contract  to  deliver  4,000  head  to 
the  Navajo  Indian  agency  at  Fort  Sumner. 

Therefore,  Greer  was  well  informed  about  the  des- 
perate fight  at  Loving's  Bend  on  the  Pecos,  between  Joe 
Loving  and  Jim  Scott  and  a  fierce  band  of  Comanches. 

Joe  Loving  was  one  of  the  old-time  cattle  men  who 
staked  his  life  on  the  hazard  of  the  frontier  and  lost 
it. 

And  on  this  occasion  he  was  unusually  alert  in  pushing 
the  herds  across  the  plains.  It  was  a  ninety-mile  drive 
without  water.  It  was  three  nights  and  four  days  from 
the  time  they  left  the  edge  of  the  plains  until  they  arrived 
on  the  Pecos  and  drove  up  the  valley  in  the  direction  of 
Sumner. 

Realizing  that  they  were  in  the  hostile  Indian  coun- 
try, every  precaution  was  used  to  prevent  an  ambush. 
Four  days  out  from  the  Horsehead  crossing  Loving  de- 
cided to  go  on  ahead  of  the  herds  and  make  arrangements 
for  the  delivery  of  the  cattle. 

Picking  out  Jim  Scott  to  accompany  him,  they  started 
after  dark  and  rode  all  night,  lying  in  concealment  dur- 
ing the  day.  This  plan  was  followed  until  the  morning 
of  the  third  day  when  they  decided  to  push  on  to  the  hills 
above  the  mouth  of  Dark  canyon.  They  were  then  about 
fifteen  miles  below  where  the  town  of  Carlsbad,  in  New 
Mexico,  now  stands. 
20 


306  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  country  was  a  perfect  level,  with  an  unobstructed 
view  for  miles.  Loving  and  Scott  were  riding  in  the 
direction  of  a  low,  flat  hill  when  they  discovered  a  band 
of  Comanches  charging  down  upon  them. 

In  their  efforts  to  reach  the  hill  for  protection  Loving 
was  shot  in  the  thigh  and  his  horse  killed.  Fortunately 
this  happened  on  the  edge  of  a  buffalo  wallow,  and  Lov- 
ing was  pitched  into  it.  Jom  Scott  hastily  dismounted 
and  began  firing  his  Henry  rifle  at  the  approaching  In- 
dians. Two  Comanches  were  killed  and  this  checked  the 
charge. 

The  Indians  drew  back  out  of  range  of  Scott's  fire 
for  a  few  moments,  giving  him  a  chance  to  tie  his  hand- 
kerchief around  Loving's  wound. 

The  siege  was  kept  up  during  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  but  the  concentrated  fire  of  Loving  and  Scott  was 
too  hot  for  the  Comanches.  They  raced  around  the 
cattle  men  several  times,  shooting  from  beneath  their 
ponies'  necks,  but  the  fire  from  the  buffalo  wallow 
compelled  them  to  retire.  Scott  killed  his  own  horse  to 
make  their  breastworks  more  secure.  Three  Indians 
were  wounded  and  six  horses  killed  in  the  last  charge 
made  on  the  buffalo  wallow. 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark  enough  to  conceal  their  move- 
ments, Loving  and  Scott,  relying  on  the  traditional  tac- 
tics of  the  Indians  of  awaiting  daylight  before  renewing 
the  attack,  crawled  several  hundred  yards  to  the  Pecos 
river. 

Finding  a  place  where  they  could  slide  down  the  steep 
bank,  they  lost  no  time  in  slaking  their  thirst  and  hunt- 
ing a  place  of  concealment.  This  they  found  in  a  deep 
cave  cut  by  the  swift  water  during  the  flood  tide.  The 
steep  bank  above  afforded  protection,  compelling  the  In- 
dians to  cross  the  river  before  renewing  the  attack. 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      3Q7 

At  daylight  the  next  morning  the  Indians  followed  the 
trail  made  by  Loving  and  Scott  to  the  bank  of  the  river, 
and  two  of  them  were  killed  before  they  discovered  where 
the  cattlemen  were  concealed. 

During  the  entire  day  the  Indians  used  all  of  their 
methods  of  warfare  to  dislodge  them,  but  found  the  op- 
posite bank  too  exposed  to  a  direct  fire  to  permit  of  an 
attack.  For  a  while  the  Indians  threw  burning  bushes 
over  the  bank  in  an  attempt  to  smoke  them  out,  but  this 
proved  a  failure  and  they  resolved  to  starve  them  out. 

In  the  meantime  Loving  was  suffering  from  his  wound 
and  they  were  out  of  "grub."  This  forced  Scott  to  agree 
to  try  to  escape  during  the  second  night  and  go  back 
down  the  trail  to  meet  Goodnight's  outfit  and  secure  as- 
sistance. 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark  enough  to  elude  detection, 
Scott  pulled  off  his  clothes  and  waded  out  into  the  stream 
and  moved  silently  down  the  river  about  one-half  mile 
before  attempting  to  climb  the  bank. 

He  was  on  the  trail  two  nights  and  one  day  without 
resting  until  he  fell  from  weakness  and  went  off  into  a 
troubled  sleep.  Bill  Scott,  who  was  out  hunting  stray 
ponies,  found  Jim  and  thought  that  he  was  dead,  but 
after  shaking,  succeeded  in  arousing  him.  Taking  Jim 
up  behind  him,  Bill  galloped  his  horse  back  to  camp,  and 
Goodnight  ordered  six  men  to  saddle  up  their  broncos 
and  they  started  out  to  rescue  Loving. 

The  next  morning  after  Scott's  departure  Loving  had 
a  close  call,  and  had  to  keep  up  a  continuous  firing  to 
prevent  the  Comanches  from  capturing  him. 

Realizing  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  stand 
them  off  another  day,  he  resolved  to  escape. 

Fortunately,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  the  Comanches 
abandoned  the  fight.  Painfully  he  floated  down  the  river 


308  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

a  few  hundred  yards  and  crawled  up  the  bank,  and, 
though  weak  and  starving,  dragged  himself  along  the 
rough  trail  to  a  bend  in  the  river,  where  he  swooned  from 
loss  of  blood. 

Here  Goodnight  found  him  and  hired  a  Mexican  outfit 
with  a  cart  to  haul  him  to  Fort  Sumner. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  post  the  surgeon  was  on  a 
scout  with  a  squadron  of  cavalry  and  it  became  necessary 
to  send  a  rider  to  Las  Vegas  to  secure  a  surgeon,  130 
miles  distant. 

Scott  Moore  performed  the  feat,  notwithstanding 
the  country  was  alive  with  hostile  Indians,  covering  260 
miles  in  thirty  hours,  but  the  amputation  of  the  leg  did 
not  save  Loving,  and  he  died  a  few  minutes  after  the 
operation. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  ANTELOPE  HILLS 

Although  the  battle  of  Antelope  hills  was  fought  sev- 
enteen years  anterior  to  the  time  that  Kentuck  arrived 
on  the  frontier,  the  details  were  fresh  in  the  memory  of 
the  Tonkawa  warriors  who  took  part  in  the  sanguinary 
conflict. 

And  notwithstanding  it  has  been  exploited  by  writers 
heretofore,  by  reason  of  it  being  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant battles  fought  in  Northwest  Texas,  it  properly  be- 
longs at  the  head  of  the  list  of  this  series. 

Colonel  Buck  Berry,  though  he  did  not  participate  in 
the  battle,  and  at  the  time  was  assigned  to  other  duties, 
was  afterward  associated  with  both  Col.  John  S.  Ford 
and  Capt.  S.  P.  Ross,  Sr.,  who  were  in  command  on  this 
memorable  occasion. 

This  was  the  first  great  battle  that  the  Tonkawas  par- 
ticipated in  since  their  terrible  conflict  with  the  allied 
tribes. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      3Q9 

The  scenery  on  the  South  Canadian  at  the  foot  of  the 
Antelope  hills  was  rough  and  almost  inaccessible.  And 
this  was  the  home  of  the  fierce  Comanches  when  not  raid- 
ing the  frontier  settlements. 

When  pursued  by  the  government  troops  or  the  Texas' 
rangers  they  invariably  retreated  to  this  refuge,  where 
they  felt  secure  from  attack,  by  reason  of  the  natural 
fortifications  and  the  difficulties  presented  to  an  invading 
force. 

It  was  the  spring  of  1858  after  returning  from  a  very 
successful  raid  that  the  Comanches  rendezvoused  in  their 
favorite  retreat. 

During  this  period  the  Comanches  were  led  by  their 
great  chief,  Pohebits  Quasho,  better  known  as  "Iron 
Jacket,"  because  he  wore  a  coat  of  mail  beneath  his  hunt- 
ing shirt,  which  rendered  him  safe  from  the  arrows  and 
rifle  balls  of  his  foes.  Where  the  old  chief  secured  this 
coat  of  mail  was  a  mystery,  though  some  writers  claim 
that  it  was  an  heirloom  captured  from  the  Spanish  in- 
vaders by  "Iron  Jacket's"  father.  Be  that  as  it  may,  no 
doubt  it  gave  him  great  power  over  his  tribe,  more  than 
had  ever  been  exercised  by  any  other  chief  who  preced- 
ed him. 

"Iron  Jacket"  was  not  only  the  head  chief,  but  also 
the  great  medicine  man  and  prophet  of  his  superstitious 
tribe,  who  were  ignorant  of  the  real  cause  of  his  immun- 
ity from  death  in  battle. 

He  was  idolized  like  some  heathen  god  whose  charmed 
life  belonged  to  the  supernatural  power  of  the  Great 
Spirit. 

The  sub-chief,  or  second  in  command  of  the  Co- 
manches, was  Peta  Nocona,  the  son  of  "Iron  Jacket," 
and  husband  of  Cynthia  Ann  Parker,  a  white  girl  cap- 
tured at  Parker's  Fort  in  the  year  1836.  (Quanah 


310  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR  , 

Parker,  now  chief  of  the  Comanche  Nation,  is  the  son  of 
Peta  and  Cynthia  Ann.) 

It  was  during  this  year  of  1858  that  the  Comanches 
became  so  troublesome  to  the  white  settlers  on  the  bor- 
der, especially  along  the  Brazos  and  its  tributaries,  that 
the  State  government  determined  to  follow  them  to  their 
stronghold  in  the  Antelope  hills,  and  if  possible  drive 
them  out,  capture  their  women  and  ponies  and  destroy 
their  tepees. 

For  this  purpose  Col.  John  S.  Ford  was  directed  by 
the  government  to  cooperate,  make  up  an  expedition,  fol- 
low up  the  raiders  and  make  a  war  of  extermination  on 
the  "red  devils,"  as  the  settlers  called  them. 

According  to  data  published  by  Col.  Ben.  C.  Stewart, 
of  Galveston,  this  expedition,  made  up  of  soldiers,  rang- 
ers, settlers  and  a  band  of  Tonkawa  scouts  under  Chief 
Placido,  started  for  Antelope  hills  about  May  ist,  Capt. 
S.  P.  Ross  second  in  command. 

The  incidents  of  this  march  to  the  Canadian,  and  the 
skirmishes  with  the  straggling  bands  en  route  are  not 
worth  the  space  required  in  the  telling. 

About  a  week  after  the  command  began  the  march 
the  Tonkawa  scouts  discovered  the  main  body  of  Co- 
manches near  the  foothills  of  the  mountain  range. 

Contrary  to  their  usual  vigilance,  the  Comanches  were 
icaught  napping,  and  did  not  know  of  the  approach  of 
Ford's  command  until  the  day  of  the  battle,  notwithstand- 
ing they  were  camped  within  a  few  miles  of  the  strong- 
hold the  day  previous. 

Consequently,  a  complete  surprise  was  sprung  about 
daylight,  and  before  sunrise  a  fierce  battle  was  being 
fought. 

The  best  account  ever  published  of  this  battle,  when 
the  famous  "Iron  Jacket"  met  his  death  and  caused  a 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      311 

panic  among  his  followers,  was  written  by  Victor  M. 
Rose,  at  one  time  connected  with  the  Victoria  Advocate, 
published  at  Victoria,  Texas.  The  writer  of  this  volume 
esteems  it  a  great  privilege  to  reproduce  Rose's  article 
in  this  connection : 

"The  panorama  thus  presented  to  the  rangers,"  writes 
Rose,  "was  beautiful  in  the  extreme,  and  their  pent-up 
enthusiasm  found  vent  in  a  shout  of  exultation,  which 
was  speedily  suppressed  by  Colonel  Ford.  Just  at  this 
moment  a  solitary  Comanche  was  descried  riding  south- 
ward, evidently  heading  for  the  village  that  Placido  had 
so  recently  destroyed.  He  was  wholly  unconscious  of 
the  presence  of  the  enemy.  Instant  pursuit  was  now 
made.  He  turned  and  fled  at  full  speed  toward  the  main 
camp  across  the  Canadian,  closely  followed  by  the  rang- 
ers. He  dashed  across  the  stream  and  thus  revealed  to 
his  pursuers  a  safe  ford  across  the  miry  and  almost  im- 
passable river.  He  rushed  into  the  village  beyond,  sound- 
ing the  note  of  alarm,  and  soon  the  Comanche  warriors 
formed  a  bold  front  of  battle  between  their  women  and 
children  and  the  rangers.  After  a  few  minutes,  forming 
a  line  of  battle,  both  sides  were  arrayed  in  full  force. 
The  friendly  Indians  were  placed  on  the  right,  and  thrown 
a  little  forward.  Colonel  Ford's  object  was  to  deceive 
the  Comanches  as  to  the  character  of  the  attacking  force 
and  as  to  the  quality  of  the  arms  possessed.  Pohebits 
Quasho,  arrayed  in  all  of  his  gaudy  trappings,  coat  of 
mail,  shield,  bow  and  lance,  completed  by  a  headdress 
decorated  with  feathers  and  long  red  flannel  streamers, 
and  besmeared  with  war  paint,  gayly  dashed  about  on  his 
war  horse,  midway  between  the  opposing  lines,  deliver- 
ing taunts  and  challenges  to  the  whites.  As  the  old  chief 
dashed  to  and  fro  a  number  of  rifles  were  discharged  at  him 
at  point  blank  range  without  any  effect  whatever,  which 


312  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

seeming  immunity  from  death  encouraged  his  warriors 
greatly  and  induced  some  of  the  more  superstitious  among 
the  rangers  to  inquire  within  themselves  if  it  were  pos- 
sible that  old  'Iron  Jacket'  really  bore  a  charmed  life. 
Followed  by  a  few  of  his  braves  he  now  bore  down  upon 
the  rangers,  described  a  few  circles,  gave  a  few  nec- 
romantic puffs  with  his  breath  and  let  fly  several  arrows 
at  Colonel  Ford,  Captain  Ross  and  Chief  Placido  receiv- 
ing their  fire  without  harm.  But  as  he  approached  the 
line  of  Tonkawas  a  rifle  ball  directed  by  the  steady  nerve 
and  unerring  eye  of  one  of  their  number,  Jim  Pockmark, 
brought  the  'Big  Medicine'  to  the  dust. 

"The  shot  was  a  mortal  one.  The  fallen  chief  was  in- 
stantly surrounded  by  his  braves,  but  his  spirit  had 
winged  its  flight  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds.  These 
incidents  occupied  but  a  short  time,  when  the  order  to 
charge  was  given,  and  then  ensued  one  of  the  grandest 
assaults  ever  made  against  the  Comanches.  The  en- 
thusiastic shouts  of  the  rangers  and  the  triumphant  yell 
of  their  red  allies  greeted  the  welcome  order.  It  was  re- 
sponded to  by  the  defiant  war  whoop  of  the  Comanches, 
and  in  these  virgin  hills,  remote  from  civilization,  the 
saturnalia  of  battle  was  inaugurated.  The  shout  of  en- 
raged combatants,  the  wail  of  women,  the  piteous  cries 
of  terrified  children,  the  howling  of  frightened  dogs, 
the  deadly  reports  of  rifle  and  revolver,  constituted  a  dis- 
cordant confusion  of  infernal  noise.  The  conflict  was 
short  and  sharp.  A  charge,  a  momentary  exchange  of 
rifle  and  arrow  shots,  the  heartrending  wail  of  discom- 
fiture and  dismay,  and  the  beaten  Comanches  abandoned 
their  lodges  and  camp  to  the  victors  and  began  a  dis- 
orderly retreat.  But  sufficient  method  was  observed  to 
take  advantage  of  each  grove  of  timber,  each  hill  and 
ravine,  to  make  a  stand  against  their  pursuers,  and  thus 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      313 

enable  the  women  and  children  to  make  their  escape. 
The  tumult  of  battle  now  diverged  from  the  common 
center  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  and  continued  for  sev- 
eral hours,  gradually  growing  fainter,  as  the  pursuit  dis- 
appeared in  the  distance. 

"Another  band  of  Comanche  braves  numbering  500, 
under  command  of  the  noted  chief,  Peta  Nocona,  distant 
ten  miles  from  the  scene  of  the  first  engagement,  heard 
the  sounds  of  firing  and  were  soon  on  the  way  to  the  re- 
lief of  their  comrades.  About  I  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
as  the  last  of  the  Texas  rangers  returned  from  the  pur- 
suit of  the  band  of  Pohebits  Quasho,  they  found  the  force 
under  Colonel  Ford  arrayed  in  line  of  battle,  and  on  in- 
quiry as  to  the  cause,  Colonel  Ford,  pointing  to  the  hills, 
replied :  'Look  there  and  you  will  see.'  A  glance  in  that 
direction  disclosed  a  force  of  500  Comanches  drawn  up 
in  line  of  battle.  Colonel  Ford,  with  221  men,  had  fought 
400  Comanches,  and  now  he  was  confronted  by  a  much 
stronger  force  fresh  from  their  village  higher  up  the  Ca- 
nadian. They  had  come  to  drive  the  palefaces  and  their 
hated  copper-colored  allies  from  the  captured  camp,  to 
rescue  prisoners  and  retake  over  400  horses  and  a  large 
amount  of  plunder.  They  did  not  fancy  the  defiant  note 
of  preparation  awaiting  them  in  the  valley,  however,  and 
were  waiting  to  avail  themselves  of  some  incautious 
movement  on  the  part  of  the  rangers,  when  the  wily  Peta 
Nocona  with  his  force  would  spring  like  a  lion  from  his 
lair,  and  with  one  combined  and  desperate  effort  swoop 
down  and  annihilate  the  enemy.  But  his  antagonist  was 
a  soldier  of  too  much  sagacity  to  allow  any  advantage  to 
a  vigilant  foe.  The  two  forces  remained  thus,  contem- 
plating each  other  for  over  an  hour,  during  which  time  a 
series  of  operations  ensued  between  single  combatants, 
illustrative  of  the  Indian  mode  of  warfare  and  the  marked 


314  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

difference  between  the  nomadic  Comanches  and  the  Ton- 
kawas.  The  Tonkawas  took  advantage  of  ravines,  trees 
and  other  natural  objects.  Their  arms  were  rifles  and 
revolvers.  The  Comanches  came  to  the  attack  with  shield, 
bow  and  lance,  mounted  on  gaily  caparisoned,  prancing 
steeds,  and  flaunting  feathers  and  all  the  gorgeous  trap- 
pings incident  to  savage  display  and  pomp.  They  were 
probably  the  most  expert  equestrians  in  the  world.  A 
Comanche  warrior  would  gaily  canter  to  a  point  halfway 
between  the  opposing  lines,  yell  a  defiant  war  whoop  and 
shake  his  shield.  This  was  a  challenge  to  single  combat. 
"Several  of  the  friendly  Indians  who  accepted  such 
challenges  were  placed  hors  de  combat  by  their  more  ex- 
pert adversaries,  and  in  consequence  Colonel  Ford  or- 
dered them  to  decline  the  savage  banters,  much  to  the  dis- 
satisfaction of  Placido,  the  Tonkawa  chief,  who  had  con- 
ducted himself  throughout  the  series  of  engagements 
with  the  bearing  of  a  savage  hero.  'In  the  combats,'  said 
Colonel  Ford,  'the  mind  of  the  spectator  was  vividly  car- 
ried back  to  the  days  of  chivalry,  the  jousts  and  tourna- 
ments of  knights,  and  to  the  concomitants  of  those  scenic 
exhibitions  of  gallantry.  The  feats  of  horsemanship 
were  splendid,  the  lance  and  shield  were  used  with  great 
dexterity,  and  the  whole  performance  was  a  novel  show 
to  civilized  man/  Colonel  Ford  now  ordered  Placido 
with  a  part  of  his  warriors  to  advance  in  the  direction 
of  the  enemy,  and,  if  possible,  to  draw  them  into  the  val- 
ley, so  as  to  afford  the  rangers  an  opportunity  to  charge 
them.  This  had  the  desired  effect,  and  the  rangers  were 
ready  to  made  a  charge,  when  it  was  discovered  that  the 
friendly  Indians  had  removed  the  white  bandages  from 
their  heads  because  they  served  as  a  target  for  the  Co- 
manches. Consequently,  the  rangers  were  unable  to  dis- 
tinguish friends  from  foes.  This  necessitated  the  entire 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      315 

withdrawal  of  the  Indians.  The  Comanches  witnessed  these 
preparations  and  now  commenced  to  recoil.  The  rang- 
ers advanced;  the  trot,  the  gallop,  the  headlong  charge 
followed  in  rapid  succession.  Lieutenant  Nelson  made  a 
skillful  movement  and  struck  the  enemy's  flank.  The 
Comanches'  line  was  broken.  A  running  fight  now  en- 
sued for  three  or  four  miles.  The  enemy  was  driven 
back  wherever  he  made  a  stand.  The  most  determined 
resistance  was  made  in  a  timbered  ravine.  Here  one  of 
Placido's  warriors  was  killed,  and  one  of  the  rangers, 
young  George  W.  Paschal,  wounded.  The  Comanches 
left  some  dead  on  the  field  and  had  several  wounded. 
After  routing  them  at  this  place  the  rangers  continued 
to  pursue  them  for  some  distance,  intent  upon  taking  the 
women  and  children  prisoners ;  But  Peta  Nocona,  by  the 
exercise  of  those  commanding  qualities  which  had  often 
before  signalized  his  conduct  on  the  field,  succeeded  in 
covering  the  retreat,  and  thus  allowed  them  to  escape. 
It  was  now  about  4  P.  M.,  both  horses  and  men  were  al- 
most entirely  exhausted,  and  Colonel  Ford  ordered  a 
halt  and  returned  to  the  village.  Brave  old  Placido  and 
his  warriors  fought  like  demons.  It  was  difficult  to  re- 
strain them,  so  anxious  were  they  to  wreak  vengeance 
upon  the  Comanches.  In  all  of  these  engagements  sev- 
enty-five Comanches  bit  the  dust.  The  loss  of  the  rang- 
ers was  small — two  killed  and  six  wounded.  The  trap- 
pings worn  by  Pohebits  Quasho,  or  'Iron  Jacket,'  the 
noted  Comanche  chief  who  was  slain,  consisting  of  lance, 
bow,  shield,  headdress  and  the  celebrated  coat  of  mail, 
were  gathered  up  on  the  field  and  brought  to  Austin, 
where  they  were  deposited  by  Colonel  Ford  in  the  old 
State  capitol.  Placido,  the  chief  of  the  Tonkawas,  fell  a 
victim  of  the  Comanche  vengeance  the  latter  part  of  the 
Civil  war,  being  assassinated  by  them  on  the  government 


316  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

reservation  at  Fort  Sill.  He  had  always  been  the  friend 
of  Texans,  and  rendered  invaluable  service  to  the  early 
pioneers,  by  whom  he  was  implicitly  trusted." 

Several  years  rolled  along  the  pathway  of  time  after 
the  sanguinary  battle  of  Antelope  hills  before  the  wily 
Comanches  recovered  from  the  effects  of  their  severe 
punishment  at  the  hands  of  Colonel  Ford's  command.  In 
the  meantime  their  brave  chief,  Peta  Nocona,  seemed  to 
be  thirsting  for  revenge,  and  lost  no  opportunity  to  at- 
tack an  isolated  ranch  house  or  kill  a  lone  traveler. 

Encouraged  by  his  success  attending  these  raids,  he 
grew  bolder  and  bolder,  until  he  started  out  with  a  picked 
band  of  red  warriors  on  an  extended  raid  upon  the  set- 
tlements along  the  Brazos  and  Red  rivers,  even  going  as 
far  east  as  Jacksboro. 

During  this  raid  the  settlers  lost  large  bunches  of  cat- 
tle and  horses,  besides  the  willful  destruction  of  their 
houses  and  barns. 

It  was  during  the  closing  years  of  the  Civil  war  that 
Peta  Nocona's  band  grew  so  dangerous  that  it  threatened 
to  depopulate  the  frontier  of  white  settlers. 

Consequently,  notwithstanding  the  scarcity  of  any  kind 
of  troops  in  Texas,  the  authorities  at  Austin  saw  the 
necessity  and  determined  to  send  out  an  expedition 
against  the  Indians.  For  this  purpose  a  squad  of  fifty 
Rangers  were  placed  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant 
Sul  P.  Ross,  with  orders  to  secure  the  aid  of  the  Ton- 
kawas  and  the  settlers  enroute,  and  take  the  trail  of  Peta 
Nocona's  band,  and  either  destroy  them  or  drive  them 
beyond  the  borders  of  the  State.  It  matters  not  for  the 
purposes  of  this  story  the  exact  date  of  Ross'  expedition, 
for  it  is  more  with  the  results  than  the  details  that  the 
readers  are  concerned. 

At  this  time  Peta  Nocona  was  in  the  zenith  of  his 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      317 

power,  and  was  not  only  the  chief  of  his  own  tribe,  but 
by  reason  of  his  dashing  bravery  was  often  chosen  to 
lead  the  allied  forces  of  the  Comanches,  Apaches,  Kiowas 
and  Kickapoos. 

On  the  occasion  of  Ross'  expedition  that  culminated  in 
the  battle  of  Soldier's  Hole  on  Peas  river,  Chief  Nocona 
was  leading  an  unusually  large  band  of  warriors  on  a 
successful  raid,  laden  with  booty.  He  was  also  ac- 
companied by  his  wife  and  children ;  Cynthia  Ann  Park- 
er, two  sons,  Pohibit  and  Quanah;  and  a  daughter, 
Prairie  Flower.  Quanah,  the  oldest  son,  was  acting  as 
sub-chief. 

Lieutenant  Ross,  schooled  in  all  the  tactics  of  frontier 
warfare,  and  acquainted  with  the  habits  of  the  Indians, 
avoided  the  trail  and  made  a  cross-country  march  ahead 
of  Nocona's  band,  and  lay  in  ambush  near  Soldier's 
Hole. 

The  unsuspecting  Indians,  flushed  with  the  spoils  of 
the  raid,  rode  down  the  peaceful  valley  to  their  doom. 

The  rangers  and  Tonkawas  opened  up  on  them  at  close 
range  and,  though  surprised  and  thrown  into  confusion, 
the  Comanches  fought  like  demons,  with  their  gallant 
chief,  Peta  Nocona,  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight.  But  the 
superior  equipment  of  the  rangers  and  Tonks,  armed 
with  Spencer  carbines,  was  too  great  an  advantage  to 
overcome  with  spears,  bows  and  arrows,  and  a  few  old 
pistols  and  guns. 

At  last  when  hope  fled  and  the  warriors  began  to  re- 
treat, Peta  Nocona  tried  to  shield  the  women  and  chil- 
dren, but  was  killed  while  covering  the  retreat  of  his  own 
wife  and  children.  Quanah  Parker  and  his  brother 
Pohibit,  mounted  on  fleet-footed  ponies,  escaped,  but 
Cynthia  Ann  Parker  and  her  daughter,  Prairie  Flower, 
were  .captured,  notwithstanding  Cynthia  Ann  made  a 


318  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

brave  resistance,  and  but  for  the  fact  that  her  blue  eyes 
attracted  the  attention  of  Lieutenant  Ross  and  pro- 
claimed her  to  be  a  white  woman,  she  would  have  been 
killed  by  the  Tonks. 

The  fight  terminated  in  a  rout,  and  the  fleeing  Indians 
and  pursuing  rangers  carried  on  a  running  fight  for  sev- 
eral miles. 

On  the  return  of  the  expedition  east,  Cynthia  Ann  and 
her  daughter,  Prairie  Flower,  were  sent  to  relatives  in 
Parker  county.  And  though  everything  was  done  to  re- 
claim them,  they  longed  for  the  wilds,  where  their  rela- 
tives and  companions  among  the  Indians  still  lived. 
The  beautiful  Prairie  Flower  withered  and  died  before 
she  bloomed  into  womanhood.  Cynthia  Ann,  though 
never  entirely  satisfied  with  her  environments,  gradually 
submitted  to  the  influence  of  civilization. 

With  the  blood  of  heroes  coursing  through  his  veins,  the 
young  chief,  Quanah  Parker,  was  not  content  to  remain 
idle,  but  thirsting  for  revenge  he  determined  to  organize 
a  band  of  select  warriors  and  avenge  the  deaths  of  his 
father,  Peta  Nocona,  and  grandfather,  Pohebits  Quasho. 
Young  Quanah  became  chief  by  right  of  succession,  and 
acknowledged  leader  by  reason  of  his  skill  and  bravery. 

And,  dear  reader,  this  is  a  place  in  the  narrative  where 
we  can  afford  to  pause  a  moment  and  moralize,  and,  if 
needs  be,  philosophize  over  the  conditions  that  make  us 
fiends  or  saints  in  the  drama  of  life. 

According  to  his  training  and  the  lights  set  before  him, 
Quanah  Parker  measured  up  to  all  the  brave  manhood 
that  characterized  his  father  and  grandfather— that  made 
them  the  ideal  leaders  of  the  tribe. 

And  to-day,  when  the  fleeting  shadows  are  growing 
dim  and  the  memory  of  the  frontier  is  melting  away, — 
Quanah  Parker  still  lives,  an  interesting  figure  that  links 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      319 

the  past  and  present  history  of  Northwest  Texas,  and 
many  are  the  white  as  well  as  red  men  who  are  proud  to 
do  him  honor. 

THE  SIEGE  OF  ADOBE  WALLS 

One  evening  Kentuck  found  old  Sam  Smith  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  smoking  a  briar-root  pipe  near  the  en- 
trance to  his  wagon  yard. 

"Say,  Uncle  Sam,  I  have  heard  that  you  took  part  in 
the  battle  of  Adobe  Walls." 

"Well,  son,  I  reckon  I  was  there." 

"Tell  me  about  it,  Uncle  Sam." 

"Well,  son,  it  was  this  way.  Those  durned  Comanches 
had  it  in  for  the  hunters,  'cause  we  were  killing  all  the 
buffalo,  and  when  a  friend  of  Quanah  Parker  was  killed 
by  a  hunter,  the  straw  was  put  upon  the  camel's  back, 
and  the  Indians  went  on  the  war  path. 

"I  was  making  headquarters  at  the  Adobe  Walls  when 
the  shindy  came  off. 

"You  will  better  understand  the  situation  when  I  ex- 
plain that  during  the  beginning  of  the  systematic  killing 
of  the  buffalo  for  their  hides,  several  firms  in  Fort 
Dodge,  Kan.,  sent  out  an  expedition  consisting  of  a  long 
wagon-train  loaded  with  supplies  with  instruction  to  lo- 
cate in  the  center  of  the  range. 

"Arriving  on  the  upper  Canadian  in  a  valley  making 
into  the  Staked  plains,  they  found  the  ruins  of  an  old  mis- 
sion once  occupied  by  the  Spanish  friars,  where  a  trading 
post  and  a  mission  school  stood  in  the  days  when  Texas 
belonged  to  Mexico. 

"The  walls  of  three  buildings  were  in  excellent  pres- 
ervation, and  without  great  expense  were  made  to  ac- 
commodate the  agents  of  the  Kansas  firms  to  store  their 
goods  and  open  supply  stores. 


320  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"The  two  largest  buildings  were  occupied  by  James 
Langton  and  Fred  Leonard,  and  the  smaller  one  taken 
possession  of  by  Jim  Hanrahan  with  a  general  store. 
Tom  Keefe  started  a  blacksmith  shop  in  the  old  chapel. 
Fred  Leonard  also  erected  a  stockade  and  ran  a  wagon 
yard  and  a  mess  house  for  the  freighters  and  hunters. 

"This  trading  post  grew  into  importance  and  soon  be- 
came a  center  for  traffic  in  hides. 

"Roving  bands  of  Indians  became  troublesome  and 
began  to  attack  isolated  camps,  and  rumors  were  afloat 
that  a  concentrated  attack  would  be  made  on  Adobe 
Walls.  The  medicine  man  of  the  Comanches  was  con- 
juring up  'good  medicine,'  that  would  allow  the  Indians 
to  kill  the  hunters  while  they  were  sleeping. 

"Captain  Arrington,  with  a  squad  of  Texas  rangers 
trailing  a  band  of  rustlers,  passed  through  Adobe  Walls 
and  reported  that  the  Comanches,  Cheyennes  and  Arapa- 
hoes  were  concentrating  for  some  purpose  on  the  Deep 
creek  of  the  Colorado  river. 

"It  was  during  the  moonlight  nights  in  June,  1874, 
and  the  hunters  were  so  busy  killing  and  drying  hides 
that  they  paid  no  attention  to  the  rumors.  The  store- 
keepers at  Adobe  Walls  sometimes  discussed  the  topic, 
but  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Indians  would  confine 
their  raids  to  outlying  camps  and  not  attack  so  formidable 
a  place  as  Adobe  Walls. 

"Consequently,  they  were  not  prepared  when  Quanah 
Parker  led  900  painted  warriors  down  the  peaceful  valley 
about  two  hours  before  daylight,  and  cautiously  ap- 
proached Adobe  Walls — nine  hundred  well-armed  and 
mounted  red  men  eager  for  the  foray — perhaps  the  larg- 
est body  of  Indians  that  ever  charged  upon  a  white  set- 
tlement. 

"With  their  front  ranks  formed  into  a  phalanx  and 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      321 

disguised  to  resemble  a  herd  of  buffalo,  they  hoped  to 
approach  without  being  discovered.  The  plan  of  attack 
was  to  take  possession  before  the  inmates  could  organize 
a  defense. 

"Now,  son,  when  you  take  into  consideration  the  dis- 
parity of  numbers  between  the  small  band  of  hunters  and 
traders  and  the  overwhelming  force  of  warriors  engaged 
in  the  ten  days'  siege  of  Adobe  Walls,  it  was  greater  than 
the  battle  of  Antelope  hills. 

"But  for  an  accident  at  Hanrahan's  at  3  a.  m.,  the  plans 
of  the  wily  foe  would  have  succeeded. 

"A  cottonwood  beam  used  as  a  ridge  pole  in  the  end 
of  Hanrahan's  store  began  to  give  way  with  a  crackling 
sound  that  awakened  every  one  in  the  room.  The  danger 
of  the  dirt  roof  falling  upon  them  forced  the  men  to  take 
steps  to  prop  up  the  beam,  and  two  of  them  mounted  the 
roof  and  shoveled  off  the  dirt  to  lighten  the  weight. 

"The  stir  at  Hanrahan's  aroused  Tom  Keefe,  who 
raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  gazed  at  what  he  sup- 
posed to  be  a  buffalo  herd  about  one-fourth  of  a  mile 
northwest.  He  watched  them  intently. 

"While  he  was  looking,  not  satisfied  in  his  mind  that 
everything  was  all  right,  two  men  by  the  names  of  Wat- 
son and  Ogg  started  out  to  hunt  their  horses,  intending 
to  get  an  early  start  for  the  range. 

"They,  too,  saw  the  supposed  herd,  but  on  closer  ob- 
servation discovered  that  it  was  a  band  of  Indians.  They 
at  once  gave  the  alarm,  and  the  Indians  realizing  that 
they  could  no  longer  keep  up  the  deception,  uttered  their 
blood-curdling  war  whoop  and  charged  down  upon  the 
settlement. 

"Tom  Keefe,  who  was  sleeping  outside  of  his  black- 
smith shop,  ran  to  Langton's  and  aroused  the  inmates, 
and  was  admitted  as  a  volley  of  arrows  and  bullets  struck 
the  wall  of  the  building. 
21 


322  THE  QUIRT   AND   THE   SPUR 

"Watson  and  Ogg  turned  and  ran  to  Hanrahan's  and 
closed  the  door  in  time  to  escape  death  or  capture. 

"When  the  sun  arose  that  morning  every  house  at 
Adobe  Walls  was  in  a  state  of  siege,  and  the  occupants 
fighting  for  their  lives. 

"Quanah  Parker  with  his  warriors  made  a  dash  for 
Leonard's  open  door  to  force  an  entrance  while  I  was 
making  an  effort  to  close  it. 

"Some  one  pushed  the  barrel  of  a  gun  over  my  shoulder 
and  fired,  and  the  big  Comanche  chief  fell  off  his  horse 
with  a  bullet  hole  through  his  breast,  which  confused  the 
warriors  long  enough  for  us  to  close  the  door. 

"The  roar  of  the  battle  became  incessant.  The  Indians 
had  divided  into  bands,  and  were  using  every  device 
known  to  savage  warfare  to  dislodge  the  defenders. 

"There  were  ten  men  in  Hanrahan's,  five  men  and  one 
woman  in  Langton's  and  twelve  in  Leonard's.  Ike  and 
Shorty  Shadier  were  sleeping  in  their  wagon,  and  were 
killed  and  scalped  before  they  could  escape. 

"Again  and  again,  many  times  during  that  long  hot 
day,  the  Indians  tried  to  forc§.  the  doors,  but  could  not 
withstand  the  destructive  fire  of  the  buffalo  guns. 

"Fortunately,  the  houses  were  so  situated  that  the  men 
could  keep  up  a  cross  fire  and  concentrate  on  any  given 
point.  This  gave  them  a  decided  advantage  and  proved 
very  disconcerting  to  the  Indians. 

"When  Quanah  was  wounded  and  put  out  of  commis- 
sion, the  command  devolved  on  the  sub-chief,  Stone  Calf's 
nephew.  Becoming  exasperated  at  the  many  futile  at- 
tempts to  force  an  entrance,  this  brave  young  chief  led 
fifty  picked  warriors  in  an  attack  on  Hanrahan's  house, 
and  tried  to  break  down  the  door  by  whirling  and  back- 
ing the  weight  of  the  ponies  against  it.  But  the  withering 
fire  from  the  Sharpe's  rifles  killed  the  chief  and  many  of 
his  braves,  and  forced  the  remainder  to  retreat. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON  THE   FRONTIER      323 

"The  Indians  then  withdrew  out  of  range  and  held  a 
council.  During  this  charge  a  man  named  Tyler  was 
mortally  wounded  and  died  before  the  sun  set. 

"A  young  Kiowa  chief  then  took  command  and  led 
sixty  warriors  in  a  fierce  charge  on  Leonard's  corral, 
but  was  killed  when  he  dismounted  to  open  the  gate.  Six 
braves  fell  across  his  body  during  this  destructive  firing. 

"The  Indians  then  withdrew  and  kept  up  the  battle 
from  long  range.  The  ground  around  the  adobe  build- 
ings was  strewn  with  dead  and  wounded  Indians  and 
ponies.  During  the  remainder  of  the  day  the  Indians  tried 
to  carry  off  their  wounded. 

"At  the  base  of  a  low  rough  hill  Adobe  Walls  creek 
ran  through  a  grove  of  trees,  which  proved  an  excellent 
concealment  for  a  band  of  Indian  sharpshooters,  who  pep- 
pered away  at  the  windows  where  the  defenders  delivered 
their  deadly  fire. 

"The  Indians  gave  up  their  attempt  to  capture  Adobe 
Walls  by  direct  attack  and  resorted  to  strategy. 

"Under  cover  of  the  buffalo  grass  some  of  them  gained 
the  rear  of  Leonard's  store  behind  a  pile  of  buffalo  hides 
and  prepared  to  set  the  building  on  fire,  and  force  the  de- 
fenders to  come  out  in  the  open. 

"The  men  in  the  building  could  hear  the  Indians  behind 
the  hides  talking  to  those  concealed  in  the  grass,  and  be- 
lieving that  some  deviltry  was  being  hatched,  Bill  Dixon 
and  Fred  Leonard  began  firing  their  high  power  guns 
into  the  hides,  and  the  force  of  the  charge  drove  the  bul- 
lets through  the  pile,  killing  a  pony  and  driving  the  In- 
dians from  concealment. 

"In  the  meantime  the  sharpshooter  Indians  kept  up 
such  a  hot  fire  at  the  windows  and  loopholes  that  the 
inmates  could  not  venture  within  sight  of  their  wily  foe. 

Under  cover  of  this  fire  the  Indians  removed  their 
wounded. 


324  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"The  warriors  then  formed  a  distant  line  of  battle  and 
came  swooping  down  and  began  circling  the  building  at 
full  speed,  shooting  from  beneath  their  ponies'  necks. 

"During  this  maneuver  the  chiefs  gathered  on  a  dis- 
tant mound  to  view  the  situation  and  hold  a  council  of 
war. 

"This  attracted  the  attention  of  Billy  Dixon  and  Bat 
Masterson,  who  elevated  the  sights  of  their  guns  and 
blazed  away  at  the  bunch. 

"One  chief  fell  from  his  horse  and  the  medicine  man's 
horse  was  killed.  This  broke  up  the  council. 

"When  the  Indians  desisted  from  their  direct  attack 
the  hunters  began  to  sum  up  casualties.  They  found 
Tyler  dying  from  his  wounds,  and  the  two  Sadler  broth- 
ers dead  and  scalped.  They  were  buried  in  one  grave  at 
the  close  of  day. 

"During  the  night  Hanrahan's  was  abandoned  and  all 
the  hunters  concentrated  in  Leonard's  and  Langston's 
stores,  dug  wells  and  barricaded  in  anticipation  of  the  re- 
newal of  the  battle. 

"A  man  by  the  name  of  Reed  was  sent  to  Dodge  City 
for  assistance.  Very  little  fighting  was  done  during  the 
second  day,  the  Indians  maintaining  their  distance  and 
keeping  up  a  state  of  siege. 

"The  third  day  the  battle  was  carried  on  at  long  range, 
the  Indians  keeping  up  a  fire  from  Adobe  Walls  creek, 
and  the  hunters  replying  from  the  windows. 

"William  Olds  was  killed  while  taking  observations 
from  the  roof  of  Leonard's  house.  He  fell  through  the 
trap  door  at  the  feet  of  his  wife. 

"During  the  third  night  the  besieged  were  reenforced 
by  the  arrival  of  about  100  men  from  the  surrounding 
range. 

"After  two  more  days  without  any  open  demonstra- 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      325 

tion,  the  hunters  supposed  that  the  Indians  had  given  up 
the  siege,  and  two  hunters  by  the  name  of  Huffman  and 
Roberts  walked  out  to  an  elevation  to  take  observation. 

"Huffman  was  killed  and  Roberts  escaped  to  the  pro- 
tection of  the  defenders  at  Leonard's. 

"It  was  ten  days  before  the  Indians,  after  losing 
eighty-five  warriors  killed  and  wounded,  withdrew  and 
raised  the  siege  of  Adobe  Walls. 

"My  son,  the  siege  of  Adobe  Walls  will  live  in  history, 
long  after  the  men  who  participated  in  the  battle  are 
dead  and  forgotten. 

"Fearing  a  renewal  of  hostilities  the  hunters  marched 
out,  and  the  majority  of  them  went  to  Fort  Dodge,  and 
some  of  them  to  Fort  Griffin,  to  reorganize  their  outfits 
for  the  winter's  hunt. 

"They  met  A.  C.  Myers,  Leonard's  partner,  on  the 
trail  with  eighty  wagons  after  the  stores,  which  he 
hauled  back  to  Fort  Dodge. 

"The  commanding  officer  at  Fort  Leavenworth  refused 
to  believe  Reed's  story  that  twenty-eight  white  men  were 
fighting  900  Indians,  and  sent  no  soldiers  to  relieve  the 
situation. 

"Governor  Osborn,  of  Kansas,  was  willing  to  arm  the 
citizens  at  Dodge  City  if  they  would  send  out  a  relief 
party,  and  forwarded  a  thousand  guns  and  ammunition, 
but  before  any  relief  could  be  organized,  couriers  came 
in  and  reported  that  the  hunters  had  abandoned  the 
Walls. 

"The  Indians  returned  after  the  hunters  left,  and  de- 
stroyed and  burned  everything,  leaving  the  old  walls 
standing  like  mourners  at  the  graves  of  the  departed. 

"Yes,  my  son,  those  red-devils  made  it  very  interest- 
ing for  the  boys  during  those  ten  days'  siege,  and  if  the 
Indians  had  all  been  armed  with  guns,  there  might  have 
been  a  different  story  to  tell. 


326  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"It  was  a  long  time  before  Quanah  Parker  was  able  to 
head  another  war  party.  The  alliance  of  the  Indians  was 
broken  up,  and  each  tribe  went  back  to  their  own  hunt- 
ing ground. 

"The  next  season  the  hunters,  with  but  few  exceptions, 
made  Fort  Griffin  their  headquarters,  securing  their  short 
order  supplies  from  Conrad  &  Rath's  branch  store  on  the 
Deep  creek  of  the  Colorado. 

"Many  of  the  outlying  camps  owed  their  safety  to  the 
severe  lesson  the  Indians  learned  at  the  siege  of  Adobe 
Walls,  who  were  taught  to  respect  the  long  range  guns 
and  superior  marksmanship  of  the  white  men." 

REMNANT  OF  THE  LIPAN  INDIANS 

Seven  tepees  in  a  grove  of  pecan  trees  one  mile  south- 
west of  Government  hill,  in  a  bend  of  Collin's  creek,  was 
the  camping  ground  of  the  remnant  of  the  Lipan  Indians 
— seven  tall,  sinewy  warriors,  their  squaws  and  papooses, 
and  their  chief,  "Apache  John,"  his  three  squaws  and  his 
papooses — twenty-five  all  told — the  population  of  the  vil- 
lage where  the  human  mementoes  of  a  once  proud  tribe 
of  people  lived  almost  an  isolated  life  on  the  frontier  of 
Texas  during  the  rapid  changes  following  the  white 
man's  invasion  of  the  Free  Range  country  in  his  onward 
march  toward  the  land  of  the  setting  sun. 

The  condition  of  this  little  band  of  dark-skinned, 
bright-eyed  people  appealed  to  Kentuck's  love  for  the 
curious,  and  he  determined  to  delve  into  the  unwritten 
history  of  the  Lipans,  who  seemed  content  to  avoid  both 
their  white  and  red  neighbors. 

"Apache  John"  was  a  misnomer  for  the  copper-col- 
ored chief  who  directed  the  destiny  of  his  dark-colored 
followers,  and  raised  them  above  the  low  level  of  filth 
and  degredation  of  the  Tonkawas,  three  miles  distant  on 
the  Clear  Fork. 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      327 

John  was  a  Mexican  by  birth  and  a  Lipan  by  adop- 
tion. 

When  a  toddling  lad  of  three  years  he  was  captured 
by  the  Lipans  in  an  attack  on  his  father's  hacienda,  in  the 
State  of  Senora,  Mexico,  and  saved  from  the  massacre 
by  Sub-Chief  Black  Horse,  who  grasped  the  lad  by  the 
hair  and  swung  him  behind  the  saddle  upon  his  horse,  as 
he  charged  through  the  thickest  of  the  fight  around 
the  adobe  building. 

John  was  turned  over  to  Black  Horse's  squaw,  who 
was  childless,  and  later,  when  the  tribe  returned  north 
to  the  Kickapoo  Valley  with  their  booty,  John  was 
adopted  as  the  son  of  the  chief,  with  all  the  ceremony  of 
the  Indian  rites. 

John  grew  up  to  young  manhood,  and  by  force  of  his 
position  as  the  sub-chief's  son,  and  his  natural  ability, 
became  the  leader  of  the  young  bucks,  and  when  he 
married  the  beautiful  princess,  Ojos  Brittianta  (Bright 
Eyes),  daughter  of  the  war-chief,  Wild  Horse,  he  was 
in  line  of  succession  and  trusted  to  lead  the  small  bands 
of  scouts  during  a  raid  on  the  settlements. 

In  those  days,  except  on  special  expeditions,  each 
tribe  was  the  enemy  of  all  the  other  Indians.  Conse- 
quently, on  one  occasion  when  John  was  returning  from 
a  raid  with  his  little  band  he  met  a  band  of  Apaches 
twice  his  number;  there  was  a  running  fight,  John  was 
taken  prisoner  and  carried  into  captivity  and  given  up 
for  lost  by  his  tribe. 

But  twelve  months  later  John  escaped  and  came  rid- 
ing into  the  Lipan  village,  amid  the  shouts  of  welcome : 

"Venire  acquie,  Apache  John !" 

And  from  that  time  on  he  was  known  and  loved  as 
"Apache  John." 

The  "hand  of  fate"  or  the  "finger  of  destiny"  seems 


328  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

to  have  directed  the  downfall  of  the  Lipan  Indians,  and 
in  the  year  1876  the  little  village  on  Collin  creek  was  the 
home  of  the  only  members  of  the  tribe  in  Texas,  though 
it  was  known  that  a  small  band  lived  in  the  mountains  of 
Old  Mexico. 

Following  the  dictates  of  his  nature  that  prompted  an 
investigation  of  the  romantic  history  of  this  fallen  peo- 
ple, Kentuck  accompanied  Chief  John  to  the  village  one 
July  evening,  and  made  friends  of  the  members  of  the 
tribe  by  a  free  distribution  of  tobacco  and  candy. 

John  would  not  talk  much  about  the  past,  but  pointing 
to  his  squaw,  Bright  Eyes,  said  "She  heap  know." 

The  old  squaw,  too,  was  reticent,  but  after  being  pre- 
sented with  a  cheap  brooch  and  a  bunch  of  blue  ribbon, 
nodded  her  head  and  smiled,  in  token  of  her  consent. 

Her  bright  little  grandson,  Sparkling  Water,  inter- 
preted the  following  story: 

"When  the  Spanish  king  sent  his  warriors  across  the 
big  waters,  and  the  white  wings  of  their  canoes  were  seen 
far  out  where  the  blue  water  melted  into  the  blue  sky,  my 
people  were  fishing  at  the  mouth  of  the  Rio  Grande,  and 
my  grandfather,  the  great  chief  Roaring  Wind,  walked 
up  on  a  knoll  where  a  live  oak  tree  stood  and  remained 
there  a  long  time  watching  the  big  canoes  come  nearer 
and  nearer  toward  the  shore. 

"My  mother  was  a  little  girl  then,  and  they  called  her 
Pajaro  Pequeno  (Little  Bird),  because  she  sang  sweet 
songs  to  the  mocking  birds  when  the  bright  face  of  the 
moon  smiled  on  the  water  of  the  bay,  and  the  white  sand 
looked  like  silver  where  the  waves  washed  the  shore,  and 
Little  Bird  was  happy  and  danced  to  the  song  of  the 
birds. 

"And  while  the  big  chief  was  shading  his  eyes  with 
his  hand,  Little  Bird  came  and  stood  beside  him,  watch- 
ing the  big  canoes  fold  their  wings. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE  FRONTIER      329 

"  'My  father/  she  said,  'where  did  the  big  canoes  come 
from  that  are  resting  on  the  waters  of  the  bay?' 

"  'Many,  many  miles  over  the  blue  water,  from  a  coun- 
try far,  far  away,  my  daughter.' 

"  'Then  they  must  be  tired  and  hungry,  and  we  will 
give  them  fish,  and  buffalo  meat,  and  maize  to  eat,  and 
make  them  beds  of  skins,  and  they  can  rest  and  sleep 
under  the  trees.' 

"  'Yes,  my  child,  if  they  come  in  peace  and  will  be 
friends  with  the  Lipans,  we  will  give  them  to  eat  and 
make  them  soft  beds  under  the  trees.  But  if  they  come 
as  enemies  the  Lipans  will  fight  and  drive  them  away.' 

"And  while  they  were  watching,  the  strangers  put  lit- 
tle canoes  in  the  water,  and  men  entered  the  little  canoes 
and  began  to  paddle  to  the  shore. 

"Then  all  the  Lipans  quit  fishing  and  came  to  where 
the  big  chief  and  Little  Bird  stood,  and  they  all  waited 
for  the  strangers  to  land. 

"And  the  white  chief  in  the  bow  of  the  first  canoe, 
raised  his  hand  with  something  white  that  fluttered  in 
the  breeze. 

"And  Chief  Roaring  Wind  say:  'They  come  as 
friends ;  'tis  well ;  we  will  go  down  to  the  shore  and  meet 
them.' 

"All  the  Lipans  go  down  to  where  the  waves  wash  the 
sands,  and  the  white  chief  and  the  red  chief  shake  hands 
and  all  the  people  rejoice,  and  march  to  the  grove  of  live 
oaks,  where  the  Lipans  built  their  tepees.  And  the  big 
chiefs  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace,  and  the  red  warriors  and 
the  white  warriors  dance  and  sing,  and  eat  and  drink,  to 
make  a  bond  of  friendship. 

"And  Don  Enriqua,  the  son  of  the  white  chief,  he  come 
and  play  with  Pajaro  Pequeno  on  the  white  sands  near 
the  laughing  water,  and  she  was  so  happy,  and  the  white 


330  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

boy  was  heap  happy,  too,  and  all  the  people  rejoice  that 
day,  many  moons  long  ago. 

"And  the  Lipans  give  the  white  chief  much  maize  and 
much  buffalo  meat,  and  much  water  for  the  big  canoes. 
And  the  white  chief  and  the  white  warriors  stay  six  days 
with  the  Lipans  and  then  sail  away. 

"And  Pajaro  Pequeno  she  remember  Don  Enriqua  for 
many,  many  moons,  and  wish  that  he  come  back  and  play 
some  more  by  the  big  waters,  where  the  laughing  waves 
wash  the  white  sands  and  the  mocking  birds  sing  in  the 
trees. 

"And  summer  was  come  and  gone  and  the  leaves  had 
fallen ;  the  north  wind's  icy  breath  made  the  water  angry 
and  the  sky  was  gray,  and  Pajaro  Pequeno  shivered  in 
the  wigwam. 

"Then  Chief  Roaring  Wind  say,  'The  water  is  too  rough 
and  the  canoes  too  light,  and  the  fish  no  bite  when  the 
wind  is  angry,  and  the  time  is  now  come  when  the  Lip- 
ans must  cross  the  Rio  Grande  and  follow  the  trail  to 
the  warm  country  far  down  the  Sierra  Madre  moun- 
tains.' 

"So  the  warriors  and  the  squaws  pack  everything  upon 
the  ponies  and  start  on  a  long  journey. 

"By  and  by  they  come  to  a  rich  valley  between  high 
mountains,  where  the  tall  pine  trees  grow  along  the 
banks  of  a  swift  running  river,  and  many  deer  and  bear 
make  their  homes  in  the  big  rocks,  and  beautiful  birds 
with  red  and  green  feathers  make  their  nests  in  the 
woods.  And  the  chief  say,  'This  is  a  pleasant  place  for 
the  Lipans  to  rest.'  And  the  tepees  were  built  near  the 
running  water  where  the  golden  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
played  on  the  tree  tops  and  the  breeze  from  the  south 
rustled  the  leaves  overhead.  Here  the  Lipans  lived  many 
moons,  fished,  hunted  and  were  contented. 


INDIAN   BATTLES  ON  THE  FRONTIER      331 

"But  when  the  spring  was  come  and  the  Lipans  began 
to  plant  maize,  Don  Juan  de  Carizo,  the  owner  of  the  val- 
ley, come  from  the  great  city  with  many  men,  and  horses, 
and  cattle,  and  he  say:  'Lipans,  vamos  pronto.' 

"And  Chief  Roaring  Wind  go  to  the  hacienda  where 
Don  Juan  lives  in  the  big  white  casa,  and  he  say  to  Don 
Juan,  the  Lipans  no  give  him  any  trouble ;  no  kill  his  cat- 
tle; no  steal  his  horses;  no  hurt  his  men,  but  that  the 
Lipans  will  kill  the  bears  and  the  mountain  lions,  so  they 
no  kill  his  cattle,  because  the  Lipans  like  to  stay  by  the 
running  water. 

"But  Don  Juan  he  say,  'No,  you  vamos  pronto !  or  I 
take  my  warriors  and  drive  you  away.' 

"Then  Chief  Roaring  Wind  called  a  council  of  all  the 
warriors  and  they  smoke  and  smoke  heaps  of  tobacco, 
and  heap  pow-wow,  and  shake  tomahawks  high  over 
their  heads,  and  the  chief  say: 

"  'Lipan  warriors  brave,  no  sneak  away  like  cowardly 
coyotes;  they  go  when  they  want  to  go,  and  they  stay 
when  they  want  to  stay,  and  not  go  'cause  Don  Juan 
say,  vamos  pronto !' 

"Then  Don  Juan  he  much  mad,  and  send  his  warriors 
and  kill  Lipan  ponies. 

"Chief  Roaring  Wind  he,  too,  much  mad,  and  say  he 
want  fifty  brave  warriors  to  mount  their  ponies  when  the 
sun  goes  down,  and  they  will  ride  to  the  casa  granda  and 
fight  the  warriors  of  Don  Juan. 

"And  when  the  evening  was  come,  and  the  sun  hid 
his  face  behind  the  mountain,  the  Lipan  warriors  fol- 
lowed the  chief  down  the  valley  to  where  they  could  see 
the  casa  in  the  moonlight. 

"There  in  the  shadows  of  the  tall  pines,  at  the  edge  of 
the  hacienda  the  chief  called  his  warriors  around  him  for 
the  last  consultation  before  charging  the  stronghold  of 
Don  Juan  de  Carizo. 


332  THE   QUIRT   AND   THE  SPUR 

"Extending  his  right  arm  and  pointing  his  finger  at 
the  casa,  the  chief  said : 

"  'Lipan  warriors,  yonder  dwells  a  proud  and  arrogant 
man ;  a  man  who  scorned  our  friendship  and  commanded 
us,  like  so  many  dogs,  to  vamos  pronto;  and  not  satis- 
fied with  showing  his  contempt,  he  answered  our  petition 
to  be  allowed  to  dwell  here  and  protect  his  herds  by 
sending  his  warriors  and  killing  our  ponies.  Shall  we 
bow  our  heads  in  shame  and  skulk  away  like  so  many 
animals  before  the  lash  of  a  master,  or  shall  we,  in  the 
true  spirit  of  Lipan  warriors,  strike  back  and  take  ven- 
geance on  the  tyrant  who  dared  to  heap  this  insult  upon 
us?' 

"Every  warrior  grasped  his  scalping  knife  in  his  hand 
and  raised  it  above  his  head  to  signify  that  he  was  ready 
to  strike  a  blow  in  honor  of  the  tribe. 

"The  chief  then  led  them  around  the  margin  of  the 
forest,  to  where  a  lane  shaded  by  trees  led  to  the  casa. 

"In  the  moonlight  they  could  see  the  family  of  Don 
Juan  and  a  score  of  his  followers  frolicking  on  the  lawn. 

"The  chief  commanded  his  warriors  to  form  single 
file  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  and  to  advance  slowly  and 
quietly  until  discovered,  then  to  charge  at  full  speed  be- 
fore Don  Juan's  men  could  form  for  defense. 

"They  advanced  within  100  yards  before  the  cry  of 
alarm  was  raised. 

"Then  the  Lipan  warriors  charged  down  upon  them, 
shouting  their  terrible  war  whoop,  before  they  could 
form  for  defense  or  escape  to  the  casa — down  among  the 
frightened  men,  women  and  children  the  Lipans  dashed, 
killing  without  mercy  and  taking  many  scalps. 

"It  was  then  that  Sub-Chief  Black  Horse  saw  a  fright- 
ened little  boy  standing  all  alone  in  the  path  of  the 
charging  warriors,  and  he  urged  his  horse  to  the  rescue, 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      333 

grasping  the  lad  by  the  hair  of  his  head  as  he  rushed  by, 
and  swung  him  behind  his  saddle.  And  there  is  the  boy," 
she  said  pointing  to  Apache  John. 

John  was  proud  of  his  squaws  and  papooses,  and  by 
thrift  and  business  enterprise,  accumulated  several  thous- 
and dollars'  worth  of  cattle  and  mule  teams. 

It  was  said  that  he  had  a  standing  legacy  to  give  any 
white  man  that  would  marry  his  daughter,  Wild  Flower. 

The  last  fight  between  the  settlers  and  the  Indians  in 
the  Kickapoo  valley  was  in  September,  1869,  on  Robin- 
son's creek,  five  miles  east  from  where  the  town  of  Lipan 
now  stands.  The  Indians  had  been  stealing  horses  and 
murdering  whites  on  Squaw  creek,  when  a  posse  of  set- 
tlers started  after  them  and  chased  them  up  Robinson's 
creek,  and  surrounded  them  in  a  gulch,  where  they  fought 
all  day,  and  seven  bucks  and  one  squaw  were  killed,  and 
one  white  man  named  Weir. 

No  one  could  tell  whether  they  were  Apaches  or 
Lipans,  as  the  warriors  of  both  tribes  resemble  each 
other. 

Bob  Foster  and  Marion  Self,  a  few  years  ago,  were 
the  last  members  of  the  band  that  fought  these  Indians. 

DEATH  OF  CAPT.  ALLEN  S.  ANDERSON 

In  connection  with  the  many  events  contemporaneous 
with  the  career  of  Col.  Buck  Berry,  was  the  tragic  death 
of  Capt.  Allen  S.  Anderson,  who  was  shot  by  Dick  Cox, 
one  of  his  own  scouts,  during  a  raid  after  a  thieving 
band  of  Indians  in  the  month  of  June,  1864. 

Captain  Anderson  was  one  of  the  pioneer  settlers  of 
McLennan  county,  and  moved  to  Bosque  in  the  spring 
of  1864,  settling  in  the  town  of  Comanche. 

On  the  night  following  his  arrival,  June  I4th,  the  Indi- 


334  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

ans  silently  entered  the  town  and  stole  all  the  horses,  with 
the  exception  of  the  splendid  animal  owned  by  Captain 
Anderson.  During  the  following  morning  while  the  in- 
habitants of  the  little  hamlet  were  discussing  the  situa- 
tion, several  men  from  the  adjacent  country  arrived  with 
a  bunch  of  horses,  and  it  was  decided  to  organize  a 
scouting  party.  After  all  the  preparations  were  complet- 
ed, Captain  Anderson  was  selected  to  lead  the  men  on 
the  trail  of  the  Indians.  Among  those  who  accompanied 
Captain  Anderson  were  Captain  Cunningham,  Aaron  and 
Dave  Cunningham,  Elias  Denton,  Dick  Cox,  Bob  Mar- 
shal, W.  H.  Kingsburry,  A.  C.  Pierce,  and  others  not  re- 
membered at  this  late  day. 

The  main  object  of  the  scout  was  to  ascertain  the  di- 
rection the  Indians  were  traveling  on  their  raid,  and,  if 
they  were  traveling  south,  to  circle  in  ahead  of  them  and 
warn  the  settlers  living  in  the  valleys  below  the  town. 

Failing  to  discover  any  signs  leading  south,  Captain 
Anderson  led  his  men  in  a  wide  circle,  carefully  scrutiniz- 
ing the  surrounding  country.  At  last  the-  scouting  party 
found  signs  leading  west,  and  followed  the  dim  trail 
five  miles  beyond  Salt  Creek  peak,  a  noted  landmark 
used  by  the  Indians  for  building  signal  fires. 

A  brief  consultation  was  held  and  it  was  decided  that 
by  reason  of  the  fact  that  no  one  was  known  to  live  west, 
in  danger  of  being  attacked  by  the  marauders,  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  follow  the  trail  farther,  especially 
as  no  preparations  had  been  made  for  a  long  journey. 

On  the  return  of  the  expedition,  when  the  men  were 
within  fifteen  miles  of  Comanche,  one  of  the  scouts  saw 
a  loose  horse  with  a  rope  around  his  neck,  and  he  re- 
ported that  possibly  there  were  Indians  in  hiding  in  the 
thicket  near  by. 

Acting  on  the  strength  of  this  report,  Captain  Ander- 


INDIAN    BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      335 

son  led  an  attack  on  the  supposed  Indians  and,  as  his 
horse  outdistanced  his  command,  he  made  a  run  for  the 
opposite  side  of  the  thicket  to  cut  off  any  chance  of  the 
red  warriors'  escape.  The  thicket  was  so  dense  that  he 
was  obliged  to  dismount  before  he  could  enter.  By  this 
time  Captain  Cunningham  and  Dick  Cox  had  arrived, 
and  entered  the  thicket  from  the  other  side.  Cautiously 
approaching  the  center,  Dick  Cox  saw  what  he  believed 
an  Indian  crouching  down  as  if  to  avoid  detection,  and 
raised  his  gun,  took  deliberate  aim  and  fired  a  load  of 
buckshot,  striking  Captain  Anderson  under  his  left 
shoulder  near  his  heart.  He  uttered  a  loud  scream  of 
pain  as  he  bounded  to  his  feet,  and  exclaimed  "I'm 
killed,"  and  Cox  realized  the  horrible  fact  that  he  had 
shot  his  captain.  Anderson  walked  about  thirty  feet  and 
was  caught  in  the  arms  of  Cox,  who  was  frantic  with 
grief.  Cox  gently  laid  him  upon  the  ground  and  he  ex- 
pired in  less  than  a  minute.  It  was  a  sorrowful  little 
band  of  men  that  carried  their  captain  back  to  Comanche. 

Captain  Anderson's  wife  and  two  children  settled  in 
Bosque  county,  where  his  son,  Archibald  D.,  was  elected 
sheriff  at  the  age  of  twenty-two.  And  at  one  time  he 
owned  a  half  interest  in  a  herd  of  cattle  that  ranged  in 
the  valley  of  Bitter  creek  west  of  the  Double  Mountain 
fork  of  "the  Brazos  river.  Later  Archibald  D.  married 
Miss  Bertha  Thompson. 

Flora,  the  daughter  of  Captain  Anderson,  married 
Joseph  A.  Kemp,  a  successful  merchant  of  Wichita  Falls, 
Texas. 

Both  of  the  families  of  Archibald  D.  Anderson  and 
Joseph  A.  Kemp  settled  in  Wichita  Falls  and  became 
prominent  in  the  development  of  that  flourishing  little 
city. 

The  wife  of  Captain  Anderson  died  at  Clifton,  Texas. 


336  THE   QUIRT   AND   THE   SPUR 

ATTACK  ON  THE  OLD  STONE  RANCH  IN  1867 

Though  of  not  as  much  importance,  when  compared 
with  more  sanguinary  fights  with  the  Indians,  the  attack  of 
the  Comanches  on  the  Old  Stone  ranch,  in  the  south- 
western part  of  Throckmorton  county,  is  worthy  of  men- 
tion, especially  to  illustrate  the  bravery  of  the  frontier 
women,  who  shared  the  dangers  and  hardships  incident 
to  the  settlement  of  a  new  country. 

The  ranch  at  that  time  was  the  home  of  B.  W.  Rey- 
nolds and  family.  The  father  and  his  two  daughters,  now 
Mrs.  J.  A.  Matthews  and  Mrs.  N.  L.  Bartholomew,  were 
absent  at  the  time  of  the  attack,  on  a  visit  to  Weather- 
ford,  and  Mrs.  Reynolds  and  her  two  sons,  Phil  and 
Glen  (both  young  lads),  remained  at  home.  George  T. 
and  William  D.  were  on  the  range  looking  after  the  cat- 
tle. 

The  evening  before  the  fight  a  couple  of  hunters  halted 
at  the  door  and  were  extended  the  usual  hospitality  of 
supper,  bed  and  breakfast.  This  proved  very  fortunate 
for  the  inmates,  for  at  an  early  hour  the  next  morning, 
while  the  hunters  were  saddling  their  horses  preparatory 
to  taking  their  departure,  a  band  of  the  red  devils  came 
charging  down  upon  them,  with  that  hair-raising  war 
whoop  that  has  struck  terror  into  the  hearts  of  so  many 
frontier  families. 

But  the  hunters  escaped  into  the  house,  and  with  the 
aid  of  Glen  and  Phil  gave  them  a  warm  reception,  though 
the  Indians  circled  the  house  several  times  on  their  ponies 
at  full  speed,  pouring  a  continuous  volley  of  arrows  and 
bullets  at  the  windows  and  doors. 

But  it  soon  became  evident  that  the  Indians  were  more 
concerned  in  rounding  up  a  bunch  of  saddle  ponies  than 
any  attempt  to  capture  the  house. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON  THE  FRONTIER      337 

After  the  fight  was  ended  and  no  one  hurt,  and  the 
Indians  had  disappeared  with  their  stolen  horses,  the  two 
hunters  went  on  their  way,  leaving  Mrs.  Reynolds  and 
her  brave  sons  to  hold  the  ranch  against  the  possible  re- 
turn of  the  Indians. 

This  old  ranch  is  situated  about  twenty  miles  north- 
east of  Albany,  and  near  the  old  overland  trail  to  Cali- 
fornia, once  the  famous  highway  to  the  Golden  Gate,  now 
grass-grown  and  almost  obliterated  by  the  hand  of  time. 
A  stranger  might  stand  on  Round  mountain,  look  down 
over  the  peaceful  valley  and  never  dream  of  the  stirring 
scenes  enacted  within  sight  of  this  lonely  peak. 

The  writer  of  this  story  attended  the  reception  given 
to  George  T.  Reynolds  and  his  bride,  nee  Miss  Bettie 
Matthews,  in  the  winter  of  1877.  And  it  was  here,  too, 
that  George  T.  was  nursed  back  to  convalescence  while 
suffering  from  almost  a  mortal  wound  received  in  an 
Indian  fight  at  Double  mountain  elsewhere  described  in 
this  volume. 

Before  the  war  the  overland  trail  was  a  much  traveled 
route,  across  Texas  by  emigrant  trains  bound  for  the 
golden  regions  of  the  Northwest  and  California.  And 
many  are  the  sad  stories  told  of  those  who  perished  from 
thirst  and  hunger,  on  the  Staked  plains  and  the  Arizona 
desert,  or  fell  victims  to  cruel  Indian  attacks,  leaving 
their  bleached  bones  on  the  prairies.  But  time  has 
smoothed  the  wrinkles  out,  and  those  who  dwell  amid 
peace  and  plenty  along  the  old  trail,  can  not  realize  that 
the  want  of  water  and  food  was  once  the  price  of  life. 

FIGHT  NEAR  THE  COPPER  MINES  IN  ARCHER  COUNTY 

The  only  protection  afforded  the  early  settlers  from 
the  predatory  raids  of  the  Indians  during  the  closing 
years  of  the  Civil  war,  was  the  Texas  rangers,  with 
headquarters  at  Austin. 
22 


338  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

On  one  occasion  a  large  band  of  Comanches  overrun 
the  country  down  as  far  as  San  Saba  and  Coryell  coun- 
ties, driving  off  horses  and  cattle,  attacking  ranches  and 
burning  the  houses. 

Capt.  Sul  Ross  was  dispatched  with  a  company  of 
rangers,  with  orders  to  drive  them  out,  and,  if  possible, 
punish  the  marauders. 

After  a  long  march  and  several  skirmishes  with  strag- 
glers, he  finally  drove  the  main  body  into  the  hills  of  the 
unorganized  county  of  Archer,  near  where  the  Boston- 
Texas  Copper  company,  after  the  war,  attempted  to  work 
a  copper  mine. 

The  rangers  with  an  auxiliary  force  of  settlers  num- 
bered about  thirty,  and.  the  Indians  between  two  and 
three  hundred. 

When  the  Indians  found  that  they  were  cornered,  they 
turned  on  their  pursuers  and  a  fierce  battle  was  fought, 
lasting  about  two  hours,  during  which  both  sides  resort- 
ed to  all  the  tactics  of  border  warfare. 

Finally  the  Indians  were  repulsed  with  heavy  loss  and 
several  rangers  and  settlers  killed  and  wounded. 

The  Indians  retreated  northwest,  carrying  with  them 
their  dead  and  wounded,  but  owing  to  the  long  forced 
march  of  the  rangers  and  settlers  and  the  fatigue  of  the 
battle,  Captain  Ross  desisted  from  following  the  Indians, 
and  he  ordered  his  command  into  camp. 

It  was  while  camped  near  this  rough  range  of  hills 
that  one  of  the  rangers  discovered  the  copper  ore  that 
laid  in  detached  lumps  along  the  breaks.  On  the  strength 
of  the  judgment  of  several  old  miners,  Captain  Ross 
loaded  several  hundred  pounds  of  the  ore  into  an  empty 
wagon  accompanying  the  command  and  hauled  it  to 
Austin  on  his  return,  where  it  was  tested  and  proved  so 
pure  that  it  was  melted  and  used  for  making  caps  for  the 
guns  of  the  Confederate  forces  then  in  the  State. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      339 

Since  then,  from  time  to  time,  the  land  upon  which  the 
copper  was  discovered  has  passed  into  the  possession  of 
several  companies,  and  is  now  owned  by  the  Texas- 
Boston  syndicate. 

As  usual  with  the  Indians  after  a  severe  chastisement, 
they  remained  quiet  for  several  months  and  returned  to 
the  breaks  of  the  upper  Canadian. 

THE  FIGHT  NEAR  THE  CALIFORNIA  RANCH 

One  of  the  most  severe  punishments  ever  administered 
to  a  roving  band  of  Indians  occurred  near  where  the 
Matthews  &  Reynolds  Cattle  company  built  their  stone 
ranch  house  on  California  creek,  in  the  southeastern  part 
of  Haskell  county. 

The  fight  took  place  several  years  before  the  building 
of  this  stone  house. 

The  Indians  had  raided  a  small  settlement  at  the 
mouth  of  Bufford  creek,  in  the  northern  part  of  Shackle- 
ford  county,  and  killed  a  young  man  named  Joseph 
Browning.  Five  men,  John  R.  and  George  B.  Bay- 
lor, Elias  Hale,  Num  Wright  and  John  Dawson, 
followed  the  Indians  and  overtook  a  small  band  near 
where  the  ranch  house  now  stands.  From  the  shelter  of 
rocks  and  a  live  oak  thicket  the  settlers  were  able  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  Indians  without  themselves 
being  seen. 

From  their  point  of  observation  the  men  were  soon 
convinced  that  this  place  would  prove  to  be  the  rendez- 
vous of  the  whole  band  of  raiders,  who  had  followed 
their  usual  tactics  of  breaking  up  into  small  bands  when 
on  a  successful  raid,  then  meet  at  a  common  point  before 
crossing  the  plains. 

The  white  men  having  the  advantage  of  being  armed 
with  Henry  rifles  while  their  foes  were  only  armed  with 


340 

bows  and  arrows,  soon  disposed  of  the  small  band  of 
six.  Again  concealing  themselves,  they  repeated  the  vic- 
tory by  killing  eight  more,  who  arrived  on  the  scene  an 
hour  later.  In  this  way  they  were  enabled  to  wipe  out  of 
existence  half  a  dozen  bands  during  the  day,  until  the 
main  body  appeared,  and  they  were  compelled  to  make 
their  escape.  It  is  reported  that  these  five  men  killed 
forty  Indians  without  losing  a  single  man. 

Either  of  the  bands  would  have  put  up  a  strong  fight  if 
they  had  known  the  smaller  number  opposed  to  them. 
But  fighting  an  unseen  foe  always  proved  a  weak  point 
with  the  Indians.  A  dash  into  a  thicket  saved  many  set- 
tlers when  alone  on  the  prairie,  for  they  rarely  followed 
a  white  man  into  concealment,  for  fear  that  it  led  to  an 
ambuscade. 

"A  Miss  is  AS  GOOD  AS  A  MILE" 

The  old  saying  "that  you  cannot  count  your  chickens 
before  they  hatch"  was  exemplified  on  one  occasion  in 
the  year  1864. 

The  Indians  were  unusually  active,  and  raided  the 
scattered  settlements,  along  the  Brazos,  Red  river  and 
all  the  tributary  streams. 

Texas  at  this  time  was  under  the  Confederate  flag 
and,  beyond  a  few  small  commands,  was  without  protec- 
tion. 

Urgent  appeals  to  headquarters  was  of  no  avail.  All 
the  troops  that  could  be  spared  were  sent  to  the  front  to 
support  the  retreating  army.  Here  and  there,  it  is  true, 
could  be  found  a  small  squad  of  rangers  who,  though 
called  into  the  regular  service,  were  detailed  on  scout 
duty. 

One  of  these  squads  was  stationed  on  Red  river  in 
Montague  county,  to  cooperate  with  the  settlers  in  pro- 
tecting their  lives  and  property  against  the  redskins. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE  FRONTIER      341 

But  notwithstanding  their  united  efforts,  the  Indians 
made  several  successful  raids,  killing  men,  women  and 
children,  and  driving  off  bunches  of  horses  and  cattle, 
leaving  the  ashes  of  their  homes  as  a  sad  evidence  of 
their  cruelty. 

One  evening  a  scout  returned  and  reported  a  band  of 
Comanches  camped  in  a  grove  a  few  miles  down  the 
river,  near  the  mouth  of  Three  Forks  on  Farmer's  creek, 
not  far  from  the  present  town  of  St.  Joe. 

Guided  by  the  scout,  the  rangers  were  led  to  where,  at 
a  safe  distance,  they  dismounted  and  approached 
cautiously  on  foot  to  where  they  could  see  the  Indians 
lying  under  the  embankment  near  the  creek. 

Every  man  in  the  ranger  force  was  an  excellent  marks- 
man, and  would  have  resented  any  intimation  that  he 
would  miss  an  Indian  at  so  close  a  range.  Consequently, 
the  word  was  passed  along  the  line  in  a  whisper  to  take 
careful  aim  and  fire  at  the  word  of  command. 

It  looked  like  the  chance  of  wiping  out  of  existence 
one  band  of  red  marauders  was  ten  to  nothing.  But  the 
deceptive  firelight,  flickering  low  over  the  dying  embers, 
played  them  false,  and  every  man  overshot  the  Indians, 
who  aroused  of  their  danger,  hastily  made  their  escape 
down  the  bed  of  the  stream  into  the  darkness  beyond. 
And  with  a  sheepish  look  of  chagrin,  the  rangers  were 
compelled  to  return  to  their  camp,  having  lost  a  golden 
opportunity  to  punish  the  Indian  raiders. 

It  was  during  these  raids  that  Chester  Dobbs  was 
overtaken  in  the  Hitson  mountains,  in  Palo  Pinto  coun- 
ty, while  he  was  hunting  horses.  He  was  riding  leisure- 
ly along  through  a  gap  usually  traveled  by  the  ponies  to 
enter  a  small  valley  where  the  grass  was  rank  and  fur- 
nished excellent  pasture. 

Without  any  warning,  two  Indian  warriors  rode  into 


342  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

the  trail  in  front  of  Dobbs  and  raised  their  tomahawks 
and  approached  to  take  him  prisoner.  But  preferring 
death  to  capture  and  torture,  he  whirled  his  horse  and 
dashed  for  liberty.  The  fleet-footed  ponies  of  the  In- 
dians showed  greater  speed  than  Dobbs'  pony,  and  they 
soon  overtook  him,  one  riding  on  either  side,  shooting 
arrows  at  the  flying  horseman,  while  Dobbs,  only  armed 
with  an  old  cap  and  ball  six-shooter,  could  not  turn  far 
enough  in  his  saddle  to  take  accurate  aim,  consequently 
was  at  the  greatest  disadvantage  in  the  running  fight. 
He  was  disabled  by  an  arrow  cutting  his  belt  and  enter- 
ing his  abdomen.  As  he  fell  from  his  horse  one  of  the 
Indians  struck  him  with  a  tomahawk  near  the  base  of  his 
skull.  When  found  his  scalp  had  been  torn  off. 

THE  FIGHT  ON  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  FORK 

Perhaps  the  most  sanguinary  battle  ever  fought  be- 
tween the  Indians  and  the  early  settlers  on  the  frontier 
of  Northwest  Texas  was  on  the  Double  Mountain  fork 
of  the  Brazos  river,  in  what  is  now  known  as  Haskell 
county.  This  bloody  conflict  took  place  on  the  3d  day 
of  April,  1867.  The  Indians  had  been  on  a  successful 
raid  in  Stephens  and  Shackleford  counties,  then  attached 
to  Palo  Pinto  for  judicial  purposes.  On  their  return 
with  a  large  bunch  of  stolen  horses  the  Indians  killed 
and  scalped  a  white  girl  near  J.  C.  Lynch's  ranch.  This 
aroused  a  spirit  of  vengeance  among  the  neighboring 
ranchmen,  and  ten  settlers,  including  George  T.  and  Wil- 
liam D.  Reynolds,  and  T.  E.  Jackson,  followed  the  In- 
dians' trail.  Knowing  the  general  direction  the  Indians 
would  take  in  their  efforts  to  escape  with  the  stolen 
horses,  the  white  men  pushed  forward  with  all  possible 
speed  to  overtake  them.  It  was  the  morning  of  the  third 
day's  pursuit  when  the  signs  became  so  fresh  that  the 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON  THE   FRONTIER      343 

men  would  not  stop  to  take  the  trouble  to  cook,  or  time 
to  eat  the  necessary  meals  to  sustain  their  strength,  so 
eager  were  they  to  overtake  and  punish  the  marauders. 
It  was  about  3  P.  M.  when  the  little  band  of  settlers  rode 
up  on  an  elevated  plateau  overlooking  the  valley  of  the 
Double  mountain  fork  of  the  Brazos.  With  the  aid  of  a 
spyglass  the  Indians  were  discovered  about  a  half-mile 
from  a  deep  water  hole,  engaged  in  killing  buffalo. 
Quickly  retreating  down  the  opposite  slope  of  the  plateau 
to  the  brakes  of  the  stream,  the  white  men  were  enabled 
to  skirt  the  timber  and  make  a  dash  at  close  quarters. 

The  Indians,  though  taken  completely  by  surprise,  put 
up  a  fierce  and  stubborn  fight.  Outnumbering  the  whites 
three  to  one,  they  depended  on  strength  of  numbers  to 
win.  Being  at  a  disadvantage  on  horseback  against  their 
wily  foe,  the  white  men  dismounted  and  fought  from  be- 
hind their  horses,  while  the  Indians  followed  their  well 
known  tactics  of  riding  their  horses  at  full  speed,  en- 
circling their  foes,  swinging  their  bodies  on  the  opposite 
side  of  their  animals,  and  shooting  from  beneath  the 
pony's  neck.  The  battle  lasted  during  the  remainder  of 
the  evening,  and  when  the  Indians  drew  off,  taking  their 
dead  and  wounded  with  them,  the  white  men  were  so 
badly  disabled  that  they  could  not  have  defended  them- 
selves much  longer,  much  less  to  have  followed  the  In- 
dians, T.  E.  Jackson  being  the  only  man  not  killed  or 
wounded.  Out  of  the  ten  who  started  out  to  punish  the 
red  devils  and  recover  the  stolen  horses,  six  lay  dead  on 
the  prairie  and  three  were  wounded.  W.  D.  Reynolds 
sustained  a  flesh  wound  in  his  left  arm,  John  Anderson 
was  severely  wounded  in  his  right  arm  and  George  T. 
Reynolds  was  shot  through  his  body  with  an  arrow,  suf- 
fering much  pain.  Jackson  pulled  out  the  shaft,  but  the 
arrow  head  remained  in  Reynolds'  body  and  caused  him 


344  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

a  great  deal  of  trouble  for  sixteen  years,  until  he  finally 
had  it  removed  in  Kansas  City  in  1882,  and  keeps  it  as 
a  relic  of  this  memorable  fight.  The  herculean  task  of 
burying  the  dead  and  making  a  litter  for  George  T. 
Reynolds  fell  to  the  lot  of  Jackson,  with  what  assistance 
W.  D.  Reynolds  could  give  him.  George  T.  and  William 
D.  Reynolds  are  prominent  citizens  of  Fort  Worth,  and 
so  far  as  known  are  the  only  two  living  participants  in 
the  Double  mountain  fight.  No  doubt  if  the  Indians  had 
possessed  more  guns  there  would  have  been  no  survivors 
to  relate  the  story  of  this  fight.  One  thing  was  demon- 
strated in  this  fight,  and  that  was  that  the  Comanches 
were  the  fiercest  and  most  intrepid  foe  that  faced  the 
white  settlers  of  Northwest  Texas  in  the  '6os  and  '703. 
They  were  a  tall,  lithe,  manly  race  of  warriors,  intellectu- 
ally superior  to  the  other  tribes  that  inhabited  the  Plain's 
country.  They  were  also  a  cleanly  tribe,  and  their  war- 
riors dressed  in  buckskin  shirts  and  leggins,  similar  to 
the  white  hunters. 

BATTLE  OF  COTTONWOOD  HOLE 

Another  desperate  battle  took  place  at  what  is  known 
as  the  Cottonwood  Hole  in  Young  County.  A  bunch  of 
cow  punchers  consisting  of  Bill  Couch,  Henry  Harmison, 
Shap  Carter,  Bill  Crow,  Rube  Secrets,  George  Lamley 
and  a  negro  cook,  were  surprised  by  the  Indians  and  took 
refuge  in  a  hole  made  by  an  uprooted  cottonwood  tree. 
The  only  weapons  in  the  bunch  were  a  couple  of  cap  and 
ball  six-shooters.  Ira  Graves  did  the  shooting  and  Henry 
Harmison  did  the  loading.  Every  time  the  Indians 
charged  the  natural  fortification,  Ira  would  rise  with  a 
six-shooter  in  each  hand  and  repulse  them.  Four  men 
were  killed  in  this  fight,  and  Perry  Harmison  was  sent 
with  an  ox  cart  to  haul  them  to  the  settlement  for  burial. 


INDIAN   BATTLES  ON  THE  FRONTIER      345 

Perry  Harmison  is  a  successful  farmer  living  in  Wichita 
county,  not  far  from  Wichita  Falls. 

FIGHT  AT  Cox  MOUNTAIN 

A  desperate  duel  took  place  in  Los  valley,  not  far  from 
Fort  Belknap,  in  Young  county,  between  a  band  of  In- 
dians and  Jack  Cox  and  Jim  Peveler.  Cox  and  Peveler 
were  out  on  the  range  cutting  firewood  when  they  were 
surrounded  by  a  band  of  Kiowas.  Both  were  armed  with 
Sharp  carbines  and  put  up  a  bloody  fight  until  their  car- 
tridges gave  out.  Cox  was  killed  and  Peveler  escaped, 
after  killing  about  six  Indians.  Cox  was  buried  at  the 
base  of  a  mountain  that  bears  his  name  until  this  day. 

About  the  same  time  Jim  Hart  and  Bill  Hitson  were 
surprised  by  a  band  of  Comanches  on  Mahar  creek,  near 
where  Albany  is  located,  in  Shackleford  county.  After 
standing  the  Indians  off  for  several  hours  they  managed 
to  escape  without  being  hurt. 

During  these  years,  between  1863  and  1876,  the  coun- 
try was  overrun  with  bands  of  hostile  Indians,  and  it 
sometimes  appeared  that  the  settlers  would  be  extermi- 
nated or  compelled  to  move  back  East. 

But  there  was  always  one  dominant  characteristic  ex- 
hibited by  the  early  settlers  of  Northwest  Texas,  and  that 
was  a  tenacity  to  hold  on  under  the  most  trying  ordeals. 
Women  became  brave  defenders  of  their  homes  in  those 
days,  as  many  a  dead  Indian  might  testify. 

As  late  as  the  year  1878  George  Halsell  and  Ed  Der- 
rett  were  rounded  up  by  the  Indians  on  Pond  creek, 
about  eight  miles  from  where  the  city  of  Wichita  Falls 
now  stands.  Halsell  was  killed  and  Derrett  ran  his  horse 
to  a  clump  of  trees  near  the  creek  bank,  and  escaped  into 
an  old  dugout,  where  he  remained  until  night,  then  went 
back  and  carried  Halsell's  body  to  the  dugout  and  then 
went  for  assistance. 


346  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  chain  of  government  posts  from  Fort  Richardson 
on  the  east  to  Fort  Bliss  on  the  west  proved  of  very  lit- 
tle protection  to  the  settlers  and  ranchmen  scattered  over 
the  great  western  range.  Miles  and  miles  of  this  vast 
territory  was  ravaged  by  the  Indians  and  renegades,  with 
no  protection  save  the  small  bands  of  Texas  rangers,  aid- 
ed by  the  settlers  themselves.  Majiy  large  claims  have 
been  paid  by  the  government  to  the  early  settlers  for 
horses  stolen  by  the  Indians  during  these  predatory  raids, 
when  they  were  supposed  to  be  on  the  reservation.  One 
of  the  pathetic  mistakes  of  the  government's  Indian  pol- 
icy in  those  days  was  the  neglect  of  the  little  band  of 
Tonkawas  who  camped  near  the  post  at  Fort  Griffin  for 
protection. 

APPEARANCES  WERE  DECEPTIVE 

One  delightful  day  in  the  fall  of  1877  Kentuck  mount- 
ed his  buckskin  pony  and  rode  west  toward  the  old  Salt 
Works.  With  a  Henry  rifle  in  the  scabbard  beneath  the 
stirrup-strap  and  a  six-shooter  at  his  belt,  he  felt  armed 
for  any  emergency,  and  capable  of  taking  care  of  any 
kind  of  game  that  by  chance  he  might  discover. 

The  ride  was  more  in  the  nature  of  an  outing  than  any 
desire  to  kill  game,  or  any  desire  to  travel  to  any  ob- 
jective point.  He  was  out  for  a  half-day's  recreation  and 
was  content  to  let  the  little  wiry  mustang  select  his  own 
gait,  while  he  breathed  the  fresh  air  of  the  prairie  and 
admired  the  beauties  of  nature,  clad  in  russet-brown 
hues. 

Kentuck  was  somewhat  of  a  dreamer,  and  prone  to 
worship  the  ideal,  and  on  this  occasion  engaged  in  "cas- 
tle building"  to  the  extent  of  losing  sight  of  direction 
and  surroundings.  But  his  faithful  little  pony,  trained  to 
follow  the  trail,  plodded  patiently  along  until  he  had  cov- 
ered about  six  miles  from  town. 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON   THE   FRONTIER      347 

The  pony  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  knoll  and,  with- 
out warning,  stopped  and  gave  a  snort  of  alarm. 

This  brought  Kentuck  back  from  the  land  of  dreams 
with  a  rush,  and  he  began  to  take  observations. 

About  six  hundred  yards  up  the  trail  in  the  direction 
he  was  traveling  he  saw  a  band  of  about  twenty  Indians, 
painted  warriors  decked  in  all  the  gay  colors  of  Indians 
when  they  go  forth  to  battle. 

They  were  too  far  away  for  Kentuck  to  determine  the 
tribe  to  which  they  belonged. 

It  was  a  critical  moment  in  the  life  of  the  man  from 
the  mountains  of  Kentucky,  and  he  realized  that  his  life 
hung  in  the  balance,  depending  entirely  on  the  attitude 
of  the  Indians — were  they  hostile  or  friendly?  As  if  in 
answer  to  his  mental  question,  the  Indians  spread  out  in 
open  formation,  and  it  looked  like  they  were  making 
preparation  to  capture  him.  Kentuck  had  no  doubt  of 
it  from  appearances,  and  knowing  the  futility  of  trying 
to  outrun  them  on  the  open  prairie,  dismounted  and  pre- 
pared to  sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible. 

Drawing  his  rifle  from  the  scabbard,  Kentuck  stepped 
behind  his  pony  and  laid  the  barrel  across  the  saddle 
to  steady  his  aim,  and  waited  for  them  to  approach  with- 
in good  range,  watching  their  movements  in  anticipation 
of  a  flight  of  arrows  or  a  shower  of  bullets. 

This  attitude  had  its  effect  on  the  Indians,  and  their 
war  chief  threw  up  his  hands  and  shouted : 

"Me  Tonkawa!    Me  Tonkawa!" 

The  reaction  from  that  tense  feeling  keyed  up  to  take 
desperate  chances  when  driven  to  the  last  stand  on  this 
side  of  eternity,  left  Kentuck  for  the  moment  unnerved. 
But  recovering  himself  with  an  effort,  anger  came  to  his 
relief,  and  it  required  the  greatest  effort  to  keep  from 
discharging  his  gun  at  the  red  joker. 


348  THE   QUIRT   AND  THE  SPUR 

And  right  here  let  it  be  understood  that  those  who  be- 
lieve that  the  Indian  has  no  sense  of  humor  are  very  bad- 
ly mistaken. 

Whether  Old  Charley  had  been  long  enough  in  con- 
tact with  the  white  men  to  cultivate  a  sense  of  humor,  it 
matters  not,  but  certain  it  is  that  his  broad  smile  showed 
an  appreciation  of  the  situation,  as  the  Indians  ap- 
proached to  where  Kentuck  was  remounting  his  pony. 

"Charley,  you  blamed  old  fool,  I  came  near  sending  a 
bullet  into  your  worthless  carcass.  What  in  thunder 
do  you  mean,  you  old  rascal,  by  playing  bad  Indians?" 

"Umph,  me  heap  big  ingun;  me  no  hurt  him  white 
brother.  Sabe,  you  heap  brave;  no  run  away;  heap 
brave ;  heap  want  to  fight." 

"Y-e-s ;  maybe ;  but  don't  you  ever  run  that  bluff  again, 
Charley,  or  you  will  take  a  flying  trip  to  the  happy  hunt- 
ing ground.  See!" 

"Yes,  me  sabe;  heap  sabe;  white  man  shoot  Indian." 
And  the  unmitigated  old  rascal  actually  winked  one  eye. 

And  the  band  of  Tonkawas  went  on  their  way  toward 
Fort  Griffin  leaving  Kentuck  to  reflect  on  the  situation 
that  presented  a  condition,  false  in  facts,  but  embodying 
all  the  elements  of  the  real. 

And  this  is  as  near  as  Kentuck  ever  came  to  partici- 
pating in  an  Indian  fight,  notwithstanding  there  were 
several  raids  in  that  section  after  he  came  to  Northwest 
Texas.  But,  as  he  often  expressed  it,  the  experience  with 
Old  Charley  and  his  band  of  scouts  had  all  the  elements 
of  the  real  thing. 

COL.  J.  B.  (BUCK)  BARRY 

Next  to  Gen.  Sul  Ross,  Col.  Buck  Barry,  of  Walnut 
Springs,  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  figures  in  de- 
fense of  the  Texas  frontier  against  Indian  raids.  His 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON  THE   FRONTIER      349 

home  ranch  was  near  Walnut  Springs,  and  in  the  early 
'705  he  sent  a  herd  of  cattle  in  charge  of  his  son-in-law, 
John  Shelton,  to  the  Griffin  range,  near  Albany. 

Shelton  and  his  wife  Sallie  located  in  Albany,  and  dur- 
ing the  fall  of  each  year  Colonel  Buck  visited  them  for 
two  or  three  weeks. 

Being  one  of  the  pioneers  as  well  as  colonel  of  a  regi- 
ment of  rangers  during  the  Civil  war,  he  could  relate 
many  interesting  incidents  of  border  warfare. 

On  these  occasions  he  always  had  an  interesting  audi- 
ence, Texas  and  Kentuck  generally  included. 

Especially  interesting  was  his  description  of  Black 
Eagle's  attack  on  the  little  settlement  on  Elm  creek,  near 
Fort  Belknap,  in  the  valley  across  the  Brazos  on  the 
trail  to  Fort  Griffin. 

In  anticipation  of  Black  Eagle's  raid,  Colonel  Barry's 
command  was  ordered  from  Harrisburg  to  Belknap,  to 
cooperate  with  White's  company  of  Bowlin's  regiment, 
sent  on  ahead  to  reconnoiter.  By  the  time  that  Barry's 
command  arrived  at  Weatherford  the  Indians,  1,000 
strong,  had  pushed  south  as  far  as  Fort  Murray,  on  the 
Brazos  river,  and  after  a  fierce  attack  had  captured  the 
fort  and  massacred  the  garrison.  They  then  pushed  on 
toward  the  small  settlement  on  Elm  creek.  Three  miles 
north  of  the  little  town  they  encountered  Captain  White's 
company,  and  a  spirited  fight  took  place  and  White  was 
driven  across  the  Brazos.  Not  far  from  Boggy  creek, 
where  this  fight  took  place,  the  Indians  discovered  old 
man  Harmonson  and  his  son  Perry,  and  gave  chase.  The 
Harmonsons  were  fortunate  enough  to  escape  to  the 
brush  and  stood  the  Indians  off,  killing  three  of  them. 
The  Indians  then  came  in  sight  of  the  string  of  houses 
along  the  bank  of  Elm  creek. 

A  man  by  the  name  of  Doc  Wilson  sighted  the  Indians 


350  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

a  mile  away  and  ran  with  all  his  strength  to  the  upper 
end  of  the  town,  then  down  the  creek  from  house  to 
house,  giving  the  alarm.  Just  as  Wilson  ran  into  the  yard 
of  George  Bragg's  house  at  the  end  of  the  row,  he  was 
shot  and  killed  outside  of  the  door,  by  the  Indians  close 
upon  his  heels.  Bragg  ran  to  his  rescue  and  was  also  shot, 
but  not  killed.  Two  cowboys  dragged  him  inside  and 
barred  the  door.  The  rest  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  little 
town  escaped  to  the  brush  and  hid.  The  cowboys  and 
Bragg  put  up  a  bloody  fight  and  killed  several  Indians. 
In  the  meantime  the  Indians  pillaged  and  destroyed  ev- 
erything in  the  other  houses. 

About  a  mile  from  the  town  on  the  trail  toward  the 
river  lived  a  widow  named  Fitzpatrick,  a  married  daugh- 
ter and  three  children;  a  girl  and  two  boys.  The  only 
defense  that  the  family  possessed  was  a  large  brindle 
bull  dog.  This  faithful  old  dog  confronted  the  Indians 
and  died  in  defense  of  his  mistress. 

Colonel  Barry  and  his  rangers  arrived  on  the  scene  the 
next  day,  and  when  they  rode  up  to  the  Fitzpatrick  house 
they  halted  and  gazed  with  astonishment  at  what  they 
saw.  There  sat  the  faithful  old  dog  outside  the  door,  his 
fore  feet  braced  against  the  ground  and  his  glassy  eyes 
and  grinning  teeth,  even  in  death,  glaring  defiance  at  his 
red  enemies.  Fifteen  arrows  were  sticking  in  his  body. 
In  the  back  yard  lay  the  bodies  of  Mrs.  Fitzpatrick's 
daughter  and  her  two  sons.  The  old  lady  and  the  little 
girl  had  been  carried  away  into  captivity. 

Colonel  Barry's  command  dug  a  wide  grave  in  the 
garden  and  buried  the  mother  and  her  two  sons  and  the 
faithful  dog  in  the  same  grave. 

"Boys,"  said  Sergeant  Christal,  "that  poor  old  dog  died 
in  defense  of  the  lady  and  her  children,  and  I  move  that 
we  bury  him  with  them."  All  voiced  their  approval.  The 


INDIAN   BATTLES   ON  THE   FRONTIER      351 

arrows  were  pulled  from  his  body  and  his  remains  were 
laid  at  their  feet. 

Black  Eagle's  band  disappeared  in  the  northwest,  and 
though  Colonel  Barry's  rangers  followed  the  trail  for 
some  distance,  they  were  never  able  to  overtake  them. 

Col.  Buck  Barry  possessed  all  the  characteristics  of  the 
ideal  rough  rider  of  the  frontier — tall  and  lithe,  with 
piercing  eyes  and  daring  written  in  every  feature;  his 
long  hair  falling  over  his  shoulders,  he  was  sure  to  at- 
tract more  than  the  ordinary  notice  when  he  appeared 
in  public. 

MASSACRE  OF  THE  LEE  FAMILY 

During  the  time  that  Col.  Buck  Barry's  command  oc- 
cupied Belknap  as  headquarters,  he  sent  out  from  time 
to  time  scouting  squads  to  look  for  signs  of  hostile 
Indians. 

Sergeant  Christal  with  ten  men  rode  as  far  south  as 
the  Lee  settlement,  twenty  miles  below  Fort  Griffin  on 
the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Brazos  river,  where  Lee  and  his 
family  made  their  home  in  the  valley,  cultivated  a  small 
farm  and  owned  a  herd  of  cattle. 

For  two  years  they  had  remained  unmolested,  notwith- 
standing bands  of  Kiowas  and  Comanches  raided  the  ad- 
jacent country.  The  family  consisted  of  the  father, 
mother,  two  daughters  and  a  son. 

Christal  and  his  squad  camped  over  night  near  the 
ranch  house  and  were  shown  all  the  courtesies  and  hos- 
pitality of  the  frontier. 

And  the  saddest  part  of  this  massacre  was  that  the 
rangers  had  departed  only  a  few  hours  when  a  band  of 
Kiowa  warriors  came  dashing  up  while  the  family  were 
enjoying  their  noonday  meal,  and  before  they  could  close 
the  door  and  defend  themselves  the  father,  mother  and 
son  were  shot  down  and  scalped. 


352  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  girls  were  captured  and  carried  away  with  the 
band,  and  years  afterward  they  were  discovered  with  the 
tribe  on  the  Fort  Sill  reservation.  Negotiations  were  car- 
ried on  between  the  agent  of  the  reservation  and  the  In- 
dian chief  that  finally  ended  in  securing-  the  freedom  of 
the  Lee  girls,  and  they  were  sent  to  relatives  in  a  distant 
State  where,  if  living,  they  are  nearing  three  score  and 
ten  years. 

Many  other  thrilling  adventures  were  related  by 
Colonel  Barry  that  would  make  interesting  reading,  but 
as  many  of  the  details  are  missing,  especially  names  and 
dates,  the  writer  cannot  afford  to  tire  his  readers  with 
generalities. 

No  doubt  many  incidents  that  possessed  all  the  ele- 
ments that  make  border  life  so  fascinating  have  been  lost 
in  the  march  of  the  years,  because  those  who  participated 
considered  that  they  were  only  the  commonplace  condi- 
tions of  a  frontiersman's  life. 

Men  and  women  in  those  days  lived  plain,  simple,  hon- 
est lives,  and  were  too  modest  to  boast  of  their  achieve- 
ments. 


CHAPTER   XII 


TEXAS'  WEDDING  DAY 

The  vanishing  shadows  are  slowly  fading,  growing  blurred  and 

dim; 
There  is  something  on  my  glasses  and  there  is  moisture  on  the 

rim. 

It  was  a  few  days  after  Texas  and  his  companions  had 
returned  from  their  outing  on  the  buffalo  range,  and 
they  were  assembled  in  Tennessee's  drug  store  talking 
about  the  incidents  of  the  past  month,  especially  specu- 
lating on  the  truth  or  falsity  of  Smoky's  story  of  Jeff 
Turner,  "the  Indian  hater." 

"Well,  boys,"  said  Kentuck,  "that  Smoky  was  a  queer 
duck,  and  no  mistake.  Evidently  a  man  of  finished  edu- 
cation, from  the  polished  language  he  used  during  his 
recital,  and  his  appearance  denoted  a  mysterious  past  that 
he  was  trying  to  make  a  sealed  book,  and  no  doubt  came 
to  the  frontier  to  bury  his  identity,  that  those  that  knew 
him  might  also  forget.  Whether  true  or  fictitious,  his 
story  of  Jeff  Turner  made  a  deep  impression  upon  me. 
His  recital  of  the  ravings  of  Turner  in  the  rattlesnakes' 
den  was  dramatic  in  the  extreme." 

"Yes,  he  was  an  odd  character  all  right,"  said  Texas. 
"The  first  and  the  only  frontier  tramp  that  this  part  of 
Texas  can  boast  of,  if  that  can  be  considered  a  distinc- 
tion. And  his  disappearance  at  Sand  Rock  springs,  on 
our  return,  was  in  keeping  with  all  his  other  character- 
istics." 

While  engaged  in  this  conversation,  Ranchman  Lyle 

23  353 


354  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

made  his  appearance  in  the  door,  and  after  the  usual  salu- 
tation of  "Howdy,"  approached  Texas  and  said,  "It  is 
all  right,  my  boy ;  the  fight's  all  off  between  you  and  me, 
and  you  have  my  consent  to  visit  the  women  folk  when 
you  like — here's  my  hand  on  it,  my'  boy." 

"Glad  to  meet  you  halfway,  Lyle,"  said  Texas,  as  he  ad- 
vanced and  grasped  the  extended  hand.  "I  have  always 
admired  you,  Lyle,  in  spite  of  your  unreasonable  preju- 
dice against  me." 

"Well,  my  boy,  we  will  let  by-gones  go  and  look 
ahead ;  we  understand  each  other  now.  Come  and  see  me 
soon;  and  you,  too,  boys;  adios — this  is  my  busy  day." 

"Well,  Texas,  congratulations  are  in  order,"  said  Ken- 
tuck,  as  he  grasped  his  comrade's  hand  and  gave  it  a 
hearty  shake.  "The  brave  deserve  the  fair,  and  I  hope  you 
will  find  true  happiness,  health  and  wealth  all  along  the 
pathway  of  life — you  deserve  it." 

One  after  the  other  his  companions  advanced  and  con- 
gratulated Texas  over  the  happy  ending  of  the  fight  to 
win  the  girl  he  loved. 

Current  events  moved  smoothly  along  for  the  next 
three  months,  and  men  and  women  lived  a  dreamy  exist- 
ence as  the  summer  dragged,  and  the  cattle  grew  fat  and 
lazy  while  the  cow  punchers  lounged  in  the  shade  of  the 
trees  and  their  ponies  ambled  around,  cropping  the  mes- 
quite  grass. 

In  the  meantime  the  preparations  for  Texas  and  Mol- 
lie's  wedding  went  merrily  along.  Every  cowboy  on  the 
range  was  a  committee  of  one  to  invite  all  the  cow  punch- 
ers to  come  and  see  the  parson  tie  the  matrimonial  knot. 

The  ranch  house  had  been  converted  into  a  bakery, 
and  every  woman  within  twenty  miles  lent  her  neighbor- 
ly aid  to  make  it  a  success. 

"Blessed  is  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on"  is  an  old 


TEXAS'  WEDDING  DAY  355 

proverb,  and,  if  true,  Texas  and  Mollie's  wedding  day 
dawned  clear  and  cloudless,  and  the  sun's  rays  flooded 
the  landscape  like  a  sheen  of  gold. 

All  the  ranchmen  and  cowboys  within  200  miles  were 
present  to  witness  the  ceremony  that  united  Texas  and 
Mollie  in  the  bonds  of  holy  matrimony.  The  ladies  from 
Albany,  together  with  those  from  the  scattered  families 
on  the  range,  added  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  occasion. 

The  two-story  ranch  house  was  thrown  wide  open, 
and  if  there  was  a  cow  puncher  in  all  that  vast  expanse 
of  prairie  land  known  as  the  "free  range  country"  who 
was  not  present  on  this  brilliant  occasion  it  was  his  own 
fault,  for  the  wholesale  hospitality  of  Lyle  and  his  wife 
was  as  broad  and  as  long  as  the  range  itself. 

Of  course,  negro  Andy  was  present  with  his  violin  to 
make  music  for  "da  white  folk."  And  he  was  proud  of 
the  privilege,  and  his  ebony  face  beamed  with  satisfac- 
tion as  he  sauntered  around  watching  the  boys  unsad- 
dling and  hoppling  their  bronchos. 

"Here,  you  imp  of  Satan,  who  invited  you  to  the  wed- 
ding?" exclaimed  Texas. 

"Bless  your  heart,  boss,  I  don't  specs  I  needs  a'  invi- 
tation to  yourn  and  Mis'  Mollie's  weddin',  does  I?" 

"No,  Andy,  you  have  a  black  skin,  but  your  heart  is 
in  the  right  place,  and  you  are  always  welcome." 

"Dat's  de  way  I  likes  to  hear  you  talk  it,  boss." 

"All  right,  Andy ;  I  expect  if  you  are  around  near  the 
storeroom  in  five  minutes,  there  will  be  something  to 
warm  your  insides." 

"Thank'ee,  boss ;  I'll  sure  be  dar." 

FAREWELL  TO  THE  FORT  AND  THE  FLAT 

It  was  the  month  of  November,  1882,  when  orders 
were  received  to  abandon  the  fort  and  move  the  troops 
to  Fort  Clark,  near  the  town  of  Brackettville. 


356  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

The  old  trading  post  of  Fort  Griffin  that  had  stood 
for  so  many  years  on  the  frontier  of  Texas,  the  ren- 
dezvous of  the  cattle  men,  trailmen  and  buffalo  hunters, 
was  to  be  dismantled,  and  all  the  stores  and  equipments 
transported  to  other  points. 

All  the  business  men,  hotel  men,  saloon  men  and  arti- 
sans in  the  Flat  were  hunting  new  locations,  and  an  air 
of  dejection  pervaded  the  whole  community. 

Tis  true  that  the  buffalo  hunters  had  killed  all  the 
large  herds  that  once  grazed  in  the  Panhandle,  and  the 
remnant  had  drifted  north  and  the  business  was  no  long- 
er profitable. 

'Tis  true,  also,  that  the  trunk  lines  of  railways  from 
the  East  had  extended  their  lines  into  southern  and  west- 
ern Texas,  giving  quick  transportation  to  the  stockyards 
in  the  big  cities,  and  that  the  old  overland  trail  no  longer 
resounded  with  the  shouts  of  the  cow  punchers  and  the 
clattering  hoofs  and  horns  of  thousands  of  heads  of  cat- 
tle. 

A  transformation  was  taking  place  on  the  range,  too, 
and  wire  fencing  was  being  used  to  fence  in  pastures, 
and  the  homes  of  settlers  were  dotting  the  prairies,  and 
there  was  little  free  grass  left. 

Consequently,  Albany  began  to  take  on  new  life  and 
clamor  for  recognition  among  the  towns  of  Northwest 
Texas. 

Business  men  with  large  local  interests  offered  induce- 
ments to  the  Texas  Central  railway  to  extend  its  line  to 
the  town. 

Everything  looked  prosperous,  and  F.  E.  Conrad 
moved  his  general  supply  store  from  the  fort  to  Albany. 

The  prosaic  commercialism  of  the  East  was  fast  push- 
ing the  old  romantic  "Wild  West"  into  the  background, 
and  the  "bad  man"  was  hunting  more  congenial  associa- 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  FORT  357 

tions,  while  the  bona  fide  citizen  was  assimilating  ideas 
in  harmony  with  the  new  conditions. 

And  yet  there  were  spasmodic  outbursts  of  lawless- 
ness that  required  the  brave  effort  of  efficient  officers  to 
suppress. 

One  event  at  least  deserves  mention  in  this  connection 
before  the  author  bids  adieu  to  the  readers  of  this  vol- 
ume. 

Texas  and  Kentuck  belonged  to  the  official  family  of 
the  county,  the  former  guarding  the  money  bags  and  as- 
sisting the  clerk,  and  the  latter  prosecuting  offenders  in 
the  name  of  the  State. 

One  morning  a  deputy  sheriff  from  Brown  county  ar- 
rived with  warrants  for  two  men,  named  King  and  Lewis, 
charged  with  theft  and  murder. 

From  the  description  of  the  men,  Sheriff  Green  Simp- 
son located  them  at  the  Millet  Brothers'  ranch  in  Baylor 
county,  near  the  town  of  Seymour.  The  ranch  was  in 
what  was  known  as  the  Griffin  range,  and  the  two  men 
had  often  engaged  in  drunken  rows  in  the  Flat,  and 
helped  to  "shoot  'em  up." 

After  a  consultation  with  his  deputy,  Henry  Herron, 
Simpson  agreed  to  assist  Phillips  in  the  capture  of  the 
criminals. 

Knowing  the  reputation  of  Millet  ranch  as  a  rendez- 
vous for  all  kinds  of  desperadoes  trying  to  escape  from 
justice,  Kentuck  urged  the  sheriff  and  the  two  deputies 
to  arm  themselves  with  shotguns  loaded  with  buckshot, 
in  addition  to  their  six-shooters.  But  Sheriff  Simpson,  a 
brave  man,  though  often  reckless  to  foolhardiness,  de- 
cided to  wait  and  summon  a  posse  at  the  ranch,  if  in  his 
judgment  it  became  necessary. 

"Green,"  said  Kentuck,  "you  seem  to  forget  that  the 
Millets  have  always  employed  the  most  desperate  men 


358  THE   QUIRT   AND   THE   SPUR 

they  could  hire.  A  shady  record  was  always  a  good 
recommendation.  Among  all  the  outfits  that  visit  the 
Flat,  none  can  raise  more  hell  and  stand  more  punish- 
ment when  arrested  than  the  Millet  gang.  I  don't  want 
you  to  think  that  I  assume  to  advise  you,  but  I  fear  that 
there  will  be  serious  trouble  when  you  attempt  to  arrest 
any  of  that  outfit." 

"Never  fear,  Kentuck;  we  will  use  all  necessary 
caution,  but  I  don't  anticipate  any  trouble.  I  know  the 
Millets  are  a  tough  lot,  but  they  can't  afford  to  buck 
against  the  law." 

"Oh,  the  Millets  themselves  will  not  take  a  hand,  but 
they  will  stand  back  and  turn  the  gang  loose.  Better 
summon  a  posse  at  Griffin  to  go  with  you." 

"All  right, .  Kentuck ;  I'll  think  about  it  on  the  way 
over.  Come  on,  boys,  we  must  be  moving.  We  will  camp 
on  the  Clear  Fork  to-night  and  pull  into  the  ranch  in  the 
morning." 

The  sheriff  and  the  deputies  departed,  and  Kentuck 
sauntered  into  the  clerk's  office,  where  Texas  was  record- 
ing deeds. 

"Say,  Texas,  I  feel  uneasy  about  Green,  Henry  and 
that  Brown  county  deputy.  Green's  too  durned  stubborn 
for  his  own  safety." 

"I  believe  you,  Kentuck,  but  what's  the  use  of  worry- 
ing .when  you  can't  help  it?" 

"True,  Texas,  and  as  a  rule  I  don't.  But  it  is  too 
blamed  bad  to  sacrifice  those  brave  deputies  because  the 
sheriff  is  bull-headed." 

"Oh,  maybe  it  will  not  be  a  sacrifice,  Kentuck." 

"Let  us  hope  .so,  Texas.  I'm  not  superstitious — don't 
believe  in  omens  and  signs,  but  somehow  I've  a  premoni- 
tion that  there  will  be  serious  trouble  at  the  Millet  ranch 
when  our  boys  tackle  those  desperadoes.  But  I'm  due  at 


359 

Justice  Steele's  court  at  2  p.  M.,  and  had  better  hunt  up 
my  bronc.  Griffin  is  not  like  it  used  to  be,  Texas.  When 
I  was  first  appointed  county  attorney,  to  fill  out  Jim 
Browning's  unexpired  term,  and  the  next  three  years, 
including  my  first  elected  term,  the  court  averaged  ten 
cases  every  morning,  but  now  it  has  dwindled  to  two  a 
week.  The  old  town  is  going  to  pieces,  Texas." 

"'Tis  strange,  but  true.  And  yet  if  we  had  paused  for 
a  moment  during  the  past  six  years  we  could  have  pre- 
dicted the  present.  The  government  post  was  never  on 
a  permanent  basis ;  simply  a  temporary  outpost  to  scare 
the  Indians  and  cause  the  settlers  to  feel  a  certain  degree 
of  safety.  Now  that  the  buffalo  are  all  killed,  and  the 
building  of  railways  makes  it  no  longer  necessary  to  drive 
cattle  up  the  trail,  the  local  trade  of  the  ranchmen  is  not 
sufficient  to  support  the  business  men,  and  they  are  forced 
to  hunt  new  locations.  Therefore,  the  hangers-on  must 
go  too,  Kentuck." 

"I  never  realized  it  before,  Texas,  but  I  can  see  the 
inevitable,  the  evening  of  the  old  and  the  morning  of  the 
new  Texas  Northwest.  We  are  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways,  between  the  free  range  and  wire  fence,  Texas, 
you  and  I  must  look  into  the  future  if  we  desire  to  keep 
up  with  the  procession." 

"Well,  Kentuck,  Mollie  and  I  are  married  and  settled 
down — go  and  do  likewise,  my  son." 

"I'll  think  about  it,  Texas.  So  long,  I'm  off  for  the 
fort." 

In  the  meantime  Sheriff  Simpson  and  the  two  depu- 
ties were  on  the  trail,  headed  for  Millet's  ranch.  At  Fort 
Griffin  they  picked  up  a  man  named  Dotty,  who  knew 
and  could  identify  the  two  desperadoes,  King  and  Lewis. 
But  Dotty  accompanied  them  under  protest,  and  when 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  ranch,  and  discovered  the  two 


360  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

men  riding  a  short  distance  from  the  corral,  carrying 
Winchesters  and  six-shooters,  Dotty  deserted  the  posse 
and  made  back  tracks  for  Griffin. 

Leaving  Herron  and  Phillips  to  watch  the  maneuvers 
of  King  and  Lewis,  Sheriff  Simpson  went  to  the  ranch 
house  for  assistance.  But  the  desperadoes  suspecting  that 
they  were  the  object  of  attention,  quirted  their  ponies  and 
cut  in  between  the  sheriff  and  the  deputies  and  followed 
Simpson  to  the  house,  Herron  and  Phillips  bringing  up 
the  rear.  In  this  formation  they  arrived  at  the  stone 
fence  inclosing  the  buildings. 

Simpson  dismounted  and  jumped  over  the  fence,  then 
ran  into  the  house.  King  and  Lewis  also  dismounting, 
climbed  the  fence  and  remained  in  the  yard  facing  Her- 
ron and  Phillips  when  they  rode  up. 

The  sudden  arrival  of  the  sheriff  and  the  hostile  atti- 
tude of  those  on  the  outside  created  intense  excitement 
among  Millet's  men. 

John  N.  Simpson  (now  a  prominent  banker  of  Dallas, 
Texas,  and  erstwhile  candidate  for  Governor  on  the  Re- 
publican ticket)  was  present  negotiating  for  the  purchase 
of  the  ranch  and  cattle. 

"Give  me  that  gun,"  shouted  the  sheriff  to  Peeler,  the 
range  boss,  pointing  to  a  double-barrel  shotgun  in  the 
corner  of  the  room. 

Peeler  made  no  move  to  obey,  and  the  sheriff  grabbed 
the  gun  and  rushed  to  the  door,  exclaiming,  "I  summon 
you  all  to  help  me  arrest  these  men!" 

King  and  Lewis  were  standing  near  the  stone  fence 
with  their  Winchesters  in  their  hands,  watching  the 
deputies,  when  the  sheriff  appeared  in  the  doorway  and 
pointed  his  gun  at  them. 

"Throw  up  your  hands  and  surrender,"  he  command- 
ed. 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  FORT  361 

But  the  only  answer  from  King  and  Lewis  was  a 
movement  to  elevate  their  guns. 

This  caused  the  officers  to  open  fire,  and  the  fight  was 
on. 

Unfortunately  for  the  sheriff,  his  gun  was  loaded  with 
birdshot,  and  at  the  distance  of  thirty  yards  was  not 
capable  of  deadly  execution.  And  when  he  attempted  to 
discharge  the  second  barrel,  King  fired  a  Winchester 
bullet  that  passed  through  both  of  his  arms,  leaving  him 
helpless  and  at  the  mercy  of  his  antagonist. 

Lewis,  using  the  fence  as  a  breastwork,  was  battling 
with  Herron  and  Phillips,  who  were  using  their  six- 
shooters  and  trying  to  force  their  ponies  closer  to  the 
fence. 

A  ball  from  Lewis'  rifle  shattered  the  handle  of  Phil- 
lip's pistol,  disabling  his  right  arm,  and  the  weapon  fell 
to  the  ground. 

King,  after  Sheriff  Simpson  fell,  turned  his  attention 
also  to  Herron  and  Phillips,  and  the  superiority  of  the 
Winchesters  over  the  six-shooters  was  soon  demonstrat- 
ed. 

Herron  was  shot  through  both  hips  and  fell  from  his 
horse. 

Phillips  was  wounded  five  times  before  he  too  fell 
from  his  horse. 

King  and  Lewis  were  not  seriously  wounded  and  were 
preparing  to  finish  the  helpless  officers,  when  John  N. 
Simpson  picked  up  a  gun  and  stepped  to  the  door  and 
exclaimed,  "Cap  Millet,  you  cannot  afford  to  permit  those 
men  to  kill  the  wounded  officers ! — call  them  off !" 

"Here,  you,  King  and  Lewis;  let  up  on  that  shoot- 
ing !"  commanded  Lon  Millet,  "or  we  will  be  compelled  to 
take  a  hand  in  the  game." 

The  two  ceased  firing,  turned  around  and  let  the  muz- 
zles of  their  rifles  rest  on  the  ground. 


362  THE  QUIRT  AND  THE  SPUR 

"All  right,  boss;  pay  us  off  and  we'll  vamos.  Don't 
think  it  will  be  healthy  for  us  around  here  after  this 
racket." 

"Well,  come  in  and  git  your  money." 

"Excuse  us,  boss;  you  bring  it  out.  We  are  a  little 
particular  about  the  company  we  keep  to-day." 

Holding  their  guns  in  readiness  to  defend  themselves, 
King  and  Lewis  waited  until  Cap  Millet  gave  them  their 
money.  Then  King  mounted  the  sheriff's  horse  and 
Lewis  one  of  the  deputies  and  rode  away. 

A  cowboy  was  sent  to  Griffin  for  a  doctor  and  an  am- 
bulance. Both  arrived  in  the  evening  and  the  wounded 
officers  were  taken  to  the  government  hospital. 

Kentuck  met  the  ambulance  as  the  wounded  men  and 
their  escort  came  up  Griffin  avenue. 

"Don't  say  I  told  you  so,  Kentuck,"  said  Sheriff  Simp- 
son, as  he  smiled  grimly  over  the  sad  greeting. 

"No,  Green,  old  man,  I  won't  take  such  a  sneaking  ad- 
vantage of  you.  I'm  very  sorry  to  see  you  boys  in  this 
condition,  and  I  hope  for  your  speedy  recovery." 

"Oh,  I  deserve  to  die,  Kentuck,  for  leading  Herron 
and  Phillips  into  that  death  trap." 

"Never  mind,  Green;  you  did  what  you  thought  to  be 
your  duty." 

"Glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Kentuck!" 

Six  weeks  later  all  three  of  the  officers  were  convalesc- 
ing, and  in  two  months  were  able  to  leave  the  hospital 
for  their  homes. 

And  now,  lest  the  recital  of  events  set  forth  in  this 
volume  become  tiresome  to  the  readers  who  have  fol- 
lowed the  true  story  of  the  men,  as  they  quirted  and 
spurred  their  wiry  little  bronchos  over  the  great  free 
grass  cattle  range  of  Northwest  Texas  in  the  early  days 
of  the  frontier,  we  will  do  well  to  let  the  vanishing  shad- 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  FORT  363 

ows  fade  once  more  into  the  hazy  distance  of  the  long 
ago,  and  return  to  our  present  daily  life. 

FINIS 

He  was  reckless  in  his  speech  and  uncouth  in  his  dress, 
That  old  time  Texas  cowpuncher,  and,  we  must  confess, 
When  mounted  astride  of  his  broncho,  made  a  display 
That  looked  dangerous  to  those  who  disputed  his  way. 

With  spur  to  the  flank  and  his  quirt  upon  the  withers, 
A  wild  yell  of  defiance  that  gave  you  most  awful  shivers, 
Dashed  down  the  street,  shot  after  shot,  emptying  his  gun, 
But,  when  arrested,  says,  "Pard,  it's  only  in  fun." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


41584 


158  00605  3457 


JUf 

W.  S.9U™.ERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


f 

SOl^ 


I 


